The World on Fire
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: Sequel to 'The World Turned Upside down'. The Night of Fire destroyed half of Genosha, leaving it burning. The two years beforehand showed the events leading up to the tragedy. After all, on that night everyone on Genosha lost someone.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

July 19, 1959

Moira opened her eyes and sighed. She looked over at the clock next to her and groaned. It was nine in the morning. She'd slept in, but there were still three hours before she had to pick up Rahne from her slumber party with Lorna. Three hours was plenty of time to get things in order and get to the palace, but only just.

She stretched and started to get out of bed, pushing the covers away. A hand grasped her wrist hard enough to keep her where she was but not hard enough to hurt. Moira sighed, looking over her shoulder. Charles' periwinkle eyes bore into hers, somewhere between amusement and sleepiness.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, smiling.

She sighed again. In the eight months since she'd come to Genosha her and Charles had carefully cultivated the image that they were a new couple despite being engaged. It hadn't been easy. They had a public image to maintain and they had to introduce the idea to Rahne. She had also had to be settled as a Genoshan citizen.

Rahne had been naturalized easily, but there were a few more problems with Moira. She had been a CIA agent after all. However, her state as a member of the new task force that hunted down the MRD had helped. Christopher Summers was also a member, his limp preventing him from participating in field work. He still trained the agents that they sent out, a team called the Hellions. They scoured the world for facilities that her branch of the department gathered intelligence on. They had already freed one.

During her time at Genosha she'd managed to get a small house on the outskirts of the capitol. It was smaller than her old house, but in much better repair. It didn't really matter. She knew that she wouldn't be spending too long in it. Charles had promised her that they'd be married before the year was out and she trusted him.

Her faith had been well-rewarded. Things had progressed rapidly since that first month; they had publicly announced their engagement and begun their wedding plans. Finally she had been able to sport a diamond ring on her finger. It was beautiful, three stones cut just right as to not be overdone. It was something Charles had bought shortly after she arrived in Genosha and had shown her for her approval ahead of time.

Her friends had been invited and given roles to play in the wedding. Her arrival on Genosha had given her more, even if she only communicated with Levine through letters about none-business matters. It would be called treason to do anything else, now that they were both citizens of separate countries. It made her sad that she was no longer working with him, but he had been invited to their wedding. He'd assured her that he'd be able to come.

Moira also knew Katherine Summers in a cursory manner now; her and her husband were business associates. She'd even been over to dinner at their house a few times. Besides, Alex's powers had manifested only a year or two before he was captured. Katherine had been anxious for someone to share her worries with who wasn't her husband. Moira remembered the feeling and was grateful that she'd run into Kayla when she had.

More and more she found herself in the palace, dealing with reports on the MRD. She'd managed to build a shaky rapport with Magnus. He trusted her as a worker but she knew that he didn't trust humans too much in general. It didn't seem to put any strain on his marriage, and she wondered why that was.

Her relationship with Susanna wasn't work-related though. As the mother of her daughter's friend they had come into a lot of contact. It helped that she was about to become the wife of the second-most powerful man on Genosha. Susanna could tell her what to expect about that situation.

The sunny woman was the complete antithesis of her brooding husband. He exuded power and majesty and she talked to everyone like they were a close friend. Moira had long ago stopped speculating on how they had ended up together. Like everyone else though she could do the math and knew that they had been together since their teens.

She'd kept in close contact with Kayla too. No matter where she went Kayla was her closest friend next to Levine. She'd trusted her to guard Rahne, not something she took lightly. Newly married and pregnant Kayla had continued to teach school. Rahne was going to be in Kayla's class next year, so they would see each other quite a bit when she went to pick her up. They also orchestrated ways to meet outside of her work.

Logan's reserved manner meant that she rarely visited the house, but they went out as often as they could. Kayla didn't like being cooped up, even if she was nearing the end of her pregnancy. Her friend wasn't the type to stay around home all day. Sometimes Emma would come along too, but not often.

The wedding plans were going along swimmingly. She had dreamed of her wedding when she was younger. There had been less paparazzi bothering her about what type of flowers she was going to have, but it still worked. Having been denied a royal wedding for Magnus and Susanna they were settling on the next best thing.

People talked, of course they would, but not enough of them did to cast any shadows on her diplomatic work when she was in the CIA. Now that they were public she felt relieved in a way. There was no more hiding and Rahne had been excited at the idea of Charles as her father. At times he could be exasperating though, and she rolled her eyes before shifting.

"I need to pick up Rahne," she said.

He propped himself up and glanced at the clock.

"Not for another three hours," Charles yawned, "You've got plenty of time."

Without being too forceful he pulled her back to the bed. He gave her a lazy smile and she shook her head.

"It takes an hour to get down there," said Moira, "And that's not including the traffic. And then I've got to get ready and get something to eat."

"Half an hour to get ready, an hour and a half to get down there," Charles said.

"I take longer than half an hour to get ready," she said.

"Not if you hurry," he said, "Come now love, you can do with another hour."

His words were tempting, especially since his bedhead was adorable, but she knew better. She didn't have time for another hour.

"I have to take a shower first," Moira said.

She could tell that she'd said the wrong thing as soon as the words left her lips. He smirked at her, sitting up.

"Oh really?" he said.

He drew an arm around her neck, pressing her up against his chest. She felt his lips on her shoulder and she shivered, trying to concentrate.

"Charles-" she began.

His teeth skimmed her neck and she stopped.

"Because we could always do that together you know," he murmured, "In fact, that seems like a rather good idea."

Moira closed her eyes as his lips travelled up the side of her jaw. He was nearly on her earlobe when she concentrated and said;

"Charles, I need those three hours because after I take about five showers I need to spray the room and put the sheets in the washing machine."

He froze in mid-kiss. She wanted to laugh, but she figured that the situation was strange enough to start with. She breathed out, convinced that the moment was successfully ruined. She pulled away, wrapping a sheet around her. Moira glanced behind her. Charles was staring at her like she'd grown another head.

"Why…why would you need to do that?" he managed.

She shook her head in disbelief. Was he deliberately being obtuse? No, he'd be smirking if he was.

"You really don't know?" asked Moira.

"No, I don't," Charles said.

Moira ran a hand through her hair.

"In a couple of hours my daughter is going to come back from her slumber party," she said, "And she's going to be in the house for hours."

He continued to stare at her blankly. How could he not understand?

"My **feral **daughter."

Charles' eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh," he said, "I…oh."

"Yes, oh is right," said Moira, "I understand that one day I'm going to have to explain about the birds and the bees. But not for a few years. And I don't want the discussion to be prefaced by her asking why I smell different."

Charles nodded, looking embarrassed. Once again she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He'd been living for mutants for how long and hadn't thought of that? Moira had even been thinking about it for when they were married; some air fresheners were godsends. As she congratulated herself for her forethought a horrified expression crossed his face. He groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What you just said…it just explains all those damned smirks I get from Logan," he muttered.

This time she did laugh.

"How long have you been around ferals Charles?" she asked, "What is it now, five years? Going on six?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice low and slightly rueful, "But whatever it is, apparently it's not enough."

"No," Moira said, still chuckling.

"I never thought of it like that!" he said.

Charles paused and looked around the room. His face became dark and Moira frowned at the expression.

"I never thought of the inconvenience our…trysts would put you to," he said, troubled, "We could do this at my house from now on-"

"That's a sweet idea," Moira interrupted, "But that wouldn't work. It's hard enough dodging the paparazzi as it is."

He gave her a half-shrug before pulling on his pants and walking over.

"I'm sorry about all the fuss around this," he said, "I'd never imagined my wedding would turn into a circus."

She smiled ruefully, reflecting on her earlier thoughts. With Genosha announced to the world it wasn't just Genoshan diplomats who were trying to score a seat. She had been in the CIA long enough to know that half of politics was being seen at the right events with the right people. The other half was inviting the right people. Moira had never thought that that would dictate the terms of her wedding list though.

"It's fine Charles," she said, "If I marry you in front of one person or in front of all of Genosha, it's fine."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Moira tilted her head back and allowed herself to kiss him back. Even now, after so long of being able to touch each other, his kiss felt like a secret that she had finally been able to enjoy. They had spent too much of their courtship tip-toeing around each other.

His lips started to move but before he could get any further she gently laid a hand on his chest. Much as she would like to continue they had to stop.

"Feral daughter, remember?" asked Moira.

He nodded.

"It certainly explains why you seem to shower so often," he said, smiling slightly, "Or for so long."

"Thank your lucky stars that I got that strawberry-scented body wash. It's made all the difference," Moira admitted, "I mean, if it smells a little too strong to me than it should cover up anything else right?"

"I assume so," Charles smiled, "Apparently I know nothing of ferals."

He kissed her again, this time on the forehead.

"See you this afternoon to go over the plans?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," Moira said, "We're going to need a way to get the Russian diplomats in without putting them too close to the American ones or redoing the entire seating plan."

She cocked her head.

"Or starting World War III."

"Their very presence on this island might do that," sighed Charles, "Few Genoshans are happy with them. Still, we have to show our goodwill."

"And our friends get the front rows," Moira said.

"And our friends get the front rows," Charles agreed.

He squeezed her hand before getting the rest of his clothes together. Moira began to leave the room but Charles coughed.

"You know…I could spray the room and put the sheets in the washing machine," he said, "It seems only fair."

She stopped in the doorway. Turning around she gave him one last kiss on the cheek.

"Have I told you how much I loved you today?" asked Moira.

"Not today, no," Charles said.

"Well, consider it done," Moira smiled, "The spray's under the sink, and I think you know how to work the machine."

Still smiling she walked down the hall into the bathroom and began to run a shower.

* * *

_**A/N: **And back for another round! The idea for Moira's worry about Rahne's ability came from noamg, who pointed out that she'd probably be able to smell that with her feral senses. Makes things a little mroe complicated. _


	2. Chapter 2

"Hurry it up!"

Christopher walked to the other side of the field, scowling. All around him the members of the Hellions scurried about, trying to get through the obstacle course with all of their limbs. He'd designed it along with Logan to test their strength, stamina, and ability to think under pressure. One wrong step would send them careening into mud or paint.

In private he allowed himself to think that they were a good bunch. With or without their powers they knew how to fight and they knew how to move quickly. They had freed one facility and helped several of its inmates rehabilitate and kept them from having panic attacks. However, as their superior and drill sergeant he'd only admit that when the job was done. A nod of the head was going to have to suffice until then.

Christopher took another step and winced. He was able to walk now; the immediate medical attention that he had received after his injury had seen to that. However, he had to do so with the aid of a cane. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to walk at all. Part of him rebelled against the idea. A drill sergeant with a cane. What a joke.

Some of his new trainees had certainly thought so. On the first day he'd seen one of them start smirking. He'd put them into a headlock, just to show that he could still do it. The fellow members of the new taskforce had just stared. There was no reason for them to intervene; they were far too shocked.

He understood that his new troops were mutants. Only one or two were humans. If they wanted to they could mind control him into doing an Irish jig on his bad leg. They didn't though. Magnus had allowed him to have some say in who would be part of the new battalion. He'd picked mutants who had been prisoners of the MRD themselves.

Magnus had approved of his choices, and the reasons behind him. Christopher felt that former prisoners would understand what was at stake when they did their job. They would be able to commiserate with their fellow mutants. Another reason, one that he knew was purely selfish, was that they would know that he had led the Starjammers into freeing two different facilities. That meant that they would respect him.

Those that didn't stepped into line after the incident on the first day. Christopher hadn't let his leg determine how strong he was. He was still a former special forces member and he kept his body in perfect shape. It was a bitter feeling knowing that if not for his leg he could go back to doing his old job.

However, his leg wasn't healing. Cain hadn't broken the bones in his leg and hip; he had shattered them. Christopher was lucky that he still had that leg, luckier still that he could walk on it. Sometimes he didn't feel lucky though. It was one of the reasons that he testified at Cain's trial when it was finally decided that Genosha could have custody of the prisoner.

Christopher was also under the impression that Cain had tried to murder Moira. That just gave him another black mark into what was turning into a very big book. Kidnapping and imprisoning mutants carried a minimum sentence of twenty years in Genosha. They had added resisting arrest, aggravated assault, and attempted murder. Altogether the charges added up to eighty years in a maximum security Genoshan prison. He had narrowly escaped execution.

He'd heard enough about the facility to know it was enough to keep Cain restrained. He had tried to murder the woman about to marry the Prime Minister and worked for the MRD. He hadn't been down there to examine his new quarters himself though. Christopher wasn't the gloating type. He was somewhat bitter about his leg, true enough, but overall his life wasn't bad.

His sons were safe. That was the most important thing. Alex could go around producing red light all he wanted to, doing tricks with it. It was hot though, so he had to do it outside. He hadn't set anything on fire, but it was Alex so it was only a matter of time before he did something.

As for Scott, Christopher still didn't know if he was a mutant. He thought that there was a good chance. His brother was one, so that was probably indicative of what he'd be. Charles had told him that it didn't necessarily mean anything, but Christopher was glad that they had all their bases covered. He was through taking chances.

In some ways it was probably good that he was off the battlefield. He had a family. He didn't want his sons to become orphans and his wife a widow. Christopher had fought in wars and fought well, but it might have been time to call it quits. His leg injury, no matter how much he hated it, could very well be a blessing in disguise.

"How's it goin' Summers?"

He looked over his shoulder at Logan. He had to admit that the man was, in some ways, his equal. They were both soldiers and held similar ranks, only Logan's was more of a ceremonial title. Logan had more vicious methods than him, but with those methods came efficiency. Christopher had been attached to a government when Logan had generally gone his own way along with his brother.

Christopher admired that ability as long as it wasn't taken too far. He'd heard that Logan's brother, Victor, had taken it too far. He was supposed to be in the same prison as Cain on a different level. Before he'd met him he had, of course, heard rumors that Logan was only a few steps away from snapping himself.

After meeting him he'd dismissed the rumors. Christopher was a soldier and he knew the difference between someone who used violence to achieve a goal and someone you'd have to shoot to stop them from massacring a village. You could see it in their eyes, in the way they carried themselves. When he'd shaken hands with Logan and looked at him, he'd know that there was nothing to worry about.

Logan was crude and blunt, but he wasn't going to he a killer? Without a doubt. Was he a monster? No. Perhaps he'd seen something in his brother that he hadn't liked and had decided to be his antithesis. Either way he was married to a woman who was about to have his child. That could change a man. Christopher expected that that had a lot to do with his refusal to give into his more vicious nature.

Logan worked at the school training the Acolytes, some of whom had become Hellions after graduation. Even though they had only spent a few months in the program they tended to do better under Christopher's training. It only made sense for the two of them to work together.

He'd looked over Logan's Acolyte program appreciatively. Only high school students were allowed into it. The program gradually became harder. It didn't require the members to keep their grades up as much as other members of the school. Christopher could appreciate that. Other students at the school had to keep a 3.0 GPA in their classes. Acolytes only had to maintain a 2.5.

It made sense to them. They were waking up at five a.m. to be taken for laps. When everyone else had gone to sleep they were still up. This was generally only present in the seniors, but the rest had this to some degree. He'd also been very admiring of the Danger Room simulations. The area had been aptly named.

Logan was also valuable for other reasons. Whenever a move had to be shown that required legwork Christopher couldn't do it. Logan would be the one to show them how easy it was to break a bone with just your foot, how to properly break down a door, useful pieces of information that Christopher couldn't display.

Sometimes he wondered how Logan saw him. A broken soldier perhaps? He couldn't be sure. Logan had been a soldier and a fighter for far longer than Christopher. He had over a century on him and experience fighting as a mutant. It only surprised Christopher that he hadn't taken over the Hellions himself. It was probably only his desire to get some semblance of normality that had made him choose the Acolyte program.

"They're still having problems getting over the barricades," Christopher grunted, "I don't see how they're going to get anywhere if they can't do that."

"How are they doin' on zip lines?' asked Logan.

"Good," said Christopher, "I don't think that it's going to come down to how well they use zip lines though."

Logan smirked.

"You'd be surprised how important they can be," he said, "Had some friends in a few major operations a couple of years ago. Used zip lines to infiltrate. Worked pretty damn well, 'specially since the second time they had a distraction."

"Such as?"

"Our Captain allowed himself to be captured," shrugged Logan.

"Isn't that risky?" Christopher asked.

"He could take care of himself," Logan said, "He was the one the other side wanted and we all knew that."

"Hm," said Christopher, "Was he a mutant?"

"Might as well have been," Logan said.

Christopher slid his eyes from the Hellions over to Logan.

"I heard a rumor you were with the Howling Commandos during World War II," he said, "That true?"

Logan gave a short nod.

"So your Captain would have been-"

"Steve Rogers, yes," Logan said, "One of the only men I ever saw who could outstare Vic. Wasn't scared."

Christopher digested the information that he was standing next to a war hero for a minute. Logan looked over his shoulder at him.

"Somethin' wrong?'

"No, not at all," said Christopher, "It's just hard to remember that you're older than you look sometimes. Much older."

"I carry it well," Logan smirked.

In front of them a Hellion tripped on the barricade and slid into a mud pool. Christopher sighed in irritation, squinting his eyes to ascertain his identity.

"Rankin!" he shouted, "Over here now!"

Pulling himself out of the mud Rankin jogged over to Christopher and Logan. He stood at attention despite his apparent exhaustion. He was always good for protocol.

"You trip like that on the field and you kill yourself, your buddies, and anyone you nearly rescued," Christopher snapped, "Do you understand me?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"So don't let it happen again!" Christopher ordered, pounding his cane into the ground, "Now back on the course!"

"Yes sir!"

He watched as Rankin jogged back.

"First time I've ever seen him trip," Logan observed.

"He's going out for the X-men one day," said Christopher, "Once the Hellions are done he'll be snapped up I'm sure. Or before then. Depends. I'd hate to lose him, but once we get those other two facilities there won't be much more need."

Logan nodded his head and slid his gaze back to Rankin.

"So why would he trip?" asked Logan, "And if it's his first time, why were you so hard on him?"

"Feeling merciful this morning?" Christopher said.

"Just curious."

Christopher shook his head.

"He had a late night with that pink girl," he said, "Lost a couple hours of sleep, he's clumsy. I'm hard on him because he's leadership material. He'll probably command his own squad one day. As such I can't let that happen again."

Logan nodded before wrinkling his brow in thought.

"By pink girl do you mean Clarice?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Christopher said, "I've always been bad with names. She's going through law school, isn't she?"

"She wants to be a diplomat," shrugged Logan.

"Good luck to her," Christopher said, "It's easier being a soldier though. Much less complicated."

"Most of the time," said Logan.

"Most of the time," agreed Christopher.

From one of the buildings a young man came running up, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. From his build and uniform Christopher could tell that he was one of the human office workers. At least, he thought so. He hoped that with so little stamina and such a thick build that he wasn't a field man.

Christopher and Logan watched him come up, neither of them making a move.

"There's a message for you Lieutenant Howlett," he panted, wiping sweat off his forehead, "It's from your wife."

They really needed a more efficient system of taking messages. Genosha was coming up with so many technological advances that it seemed wrong that they hadn't fixed the simple problem of how to make portable phones. Walkie-talkies and radios just didn't do the trick if you weren't on field work.

"Yes?" asked Logan.

"She's having the baby and her sister's driving her to the hospital-"

With one movement Logan pushed the unfortunate man out of the way. Christopher watched with amusement as he ran across the field. He remembered his reaction the first time he heard Katherine was going into labor. It had been similar, but he'd hadn't had increased speed and stamina to help him.

There was, however, one thing that he felt Logan should know before he left earshot. It was something that new fathers often forgot.

"Bring a book or something!" Christopher called after him, "And I know you want to, but don't run any red lights or anything! Trust me when I say that it's going to take a lot longer than you think!"

Logan made a dismissive gesture with his hand before disappearing from sight. Christopher smiled. He probably wouldn't have listened either.


	3. Chapter 3

Logan envied Emma's serenity. The first time he had seen the girl she had been a mess. Not physically by any means, and there were few outward signs of her instability. When she tilted her head or smiled though, any onlooker could tell that something was wrong. Back then Emma had been a patchwork of broken pieces jammed together to make a person who was barely coherent.

That had been over four years ago. He'd seen it get worse to the point where she was lashing out and killing prisoners when she was supposed to be interrogating them. Azazel and Clarice had done their best to keep it under wraps, much like he'd done for Victor. They were more successful than he'd been, but in both cases it had been decided that something had to be done.

It was strange that it was the same incident that would decide both of their fates. Victor had gone after Kayla which had sealed his arrest warrant. Logan hadn't been to visit him after he'd been put away. There was too much there. His brother had attempted to kill the woman he loved just so Logan wouldn't have anyone else in his life. It wasn't the sort of thing that a relationship could be repaired after.

Emma had chosen her fate when she had stepped in and saved her sister. Charles had quietly recommended that they give her another month before they think of putting her away. That month had been all Emma needed to begin to stabilize, to show an interest in controlling her powers. She went into therapy and got better. Rediscovering that her sister was alive was all she needed.

And now, while he gritted his teeth and his stomach churned in turmoil Emma stood serenely by. One of her hands was on Kayla's forehead, a truly angelic smile on her lips. She was the devoted sister, preparing to see her new niece or nephew. She had driven Kayla to the hospital and made sure to check with all the orderlies and nurses where everything was. She'd given a doctor instructions to show Logan to Kayla's room immediately after he arrived. She was completely prepared.

She'd even given him a bright smile when he came in, his clothes disheveled and probably looking like a man who'd just escaped prison. He suspected that she didn't like him, but he'd never had anything to back up that theory. Besides narrowing her eyes at him when he was introduced as her sister's fiancé she'd been nothing but civil. Even at the hospital her smile was genuine. Emma had gestured for him to come forward and inclined her head, her face free from any signs of insanity.

"She's been waiting for you," Emma said.

"Glad you're here Logan," said Kayla, her voice strained.

Logan had taken up position next to her, holding her hand. He'd heard that women who were pregnant tended to break their husband's hands during delivery. He wasn't worried about that. It would heal. Kayla could break his hand a thousand times if it made her feel better and it wouldn't make any difference to him.

He knew that technically he wasn't allowed to be in the room for the birth. However, he was damned if he was going to let any nurses or doctors push him out. He'd let them see that in his eyes when the first doctor tentatively suggested that he should leave. Kayla had laughed as the doctor stumbled out, looking terrified. Emma had inclined her head in amusement but said nothing.

Logan looked over at his wife and squeezed her hand in support. He still thought it was incredible that he was in this situation. Sometimes he thought it was all just a strange dream. Years ago he had realized that he wasn't suited to fatherhood. There were people who would have families and then there were people like him.

Deep down Logan knew that he could easily become like his brother. It was only the pangs of a conscience which had kept him from ending up like Victor. The urge to use his fists and claws to solve a situation was always there. You couldn't use that approach with a wife or child, so he'd known that he couldn't do it.

Logan knew one thousand ways to kill a man. He knew how to infiltrate enemy bases and destroy equipment. He was a born killer, a soldier who didn't need orders and wasn't afraid to take the tough way out. It was the abilities that made him so useful in the Genoshan revolution that had confirmed that no woman would want to spend their life with him, and no kid would want him as a father.

And then Kayla had changed everything. She wasn't afraid. She'd seen some bad things in life, done some bad things too if he was to be honest. Kayla wasn't an angel, but who on Genosha was? Ever since the MRD had shown up mutants had been driven to desperate measures to survive.

It was her anger over what had happened to her family that had kept her going. Insanity had never gripped her like it had gripped her sister though. She had trudged on, determined. If she had left a trail of bodies and a river of blood behind her, what of it? Logan understood better than anyone that survival often counted on your ability to kill someone before they killed you.

Yet, she wasn't bloodthirsty. Her kills had never corrupted her. She was a woman who accepted what she had done and moved on with her life. She was a warrior in her own right, and fiercely loyal. She was a woman who would befriend a CIA agent and volunteered to protect her daughter in a strange land.

It made no sense that she would want him, the broken soldier, but he was grateful that she did. She had pulled him into a world where things could be different. Kayla had made him want to be the kind of person who could spend his life with her and raise a child together. He had wanted to become better because, if she could get past what she had done, why couldn't he at least try?

The doctors came back in as Kayla entered the last stages of her delivery. He could see Emma hovering nearby, her face a picture of sisterly concern. Unlike him Kayla had forbidden her from holding her hand. She'd tried and failed with Logan, but with Emma she had some ground to stand on. Emma wouldn't heal and if she turned her hand to diamond then it would be too slippery to hold onto. Logan kept his hand firmly in hers, even when he heard his bones creaking.

Cries filled the room and he winced from all the noise, amplified by his sensitive ears. Hospitals had always been difficult for him, their myriad of chemicals killing his noise and the machines hurting his ears. The only place that could even compare with the sensory overload he experienced was the battlefield. His discomfort couldn't be compared with what she was going through though.

"Kayla, it's okay," he said, "I'm here; it's gonna be okay."

She gave him a wry smile. Despite his premonitions Kayla didn't break his hand. It seemed like hours passed before their child was born though. He knew as soon as the child was born that it was a girl, the smell filling his nostrils. He leaned down and whispered the news in Kayla's ear.

Kayla had laughed, a weak and strangled sound. She had quieted when they put the wailing baby into her arms. It figured. No child of Kayla's would come into the world meekly. No child of Logan's would come into the world quietly. Together their daughter made an incredible wailer.

She was placed in her mother's arms, her skin shriveled and red. Emma let out a cooing noise and Kayla smiled. She smiled at Logan.

"I was thinking Laura," she said.

He grinned and gently touched one of the baby's hand with his fingertip. He was going to have to be very careful from then on out. He'd been given an incredible chance, and he wasn't about to mess it up.

"Laura sounds great," he said.

* * *

Emma walked down the hall, feeling very proud of herself. It was funny in its own way. She hadn't done anything to be proud of really; it was her sister who had had her daughter a few hours ago. She had merely been a bystander, the devoted sister who reassured her until her husband arrived and tried to fetch things and be useful after he did.

She smiled to herself as she walked along the hall. Emma didn't like Logan. She didn't like the way he smoked his cheap cigars, his crude language, or his violent nature. Emma knew it was hypocritical to get angry at him for being violent; she herself didn't have the cleanest record when it came to that. However, she hadn't liked it in herself and didn't like to see it in others.

It wasn't as though she hated him. He had done several good things; namely her new niece. She had always been able to count on him when they were going into combat. He was a good soldier, but Emma had been shocked and angry to find out that he was joining their family. Where had that come from? She wasn't quite ready to share and he wasn't the type of person that she'd be willing to share with if she was.

However, she made a point of being nice to him for the simple reason that he made Kayla happy. Her sister deserved that. As long as he made her sister happy Emma would go on being cheerful around him. She would go on being the supportive sister-in-law. The minute he ceased to make Kayla happy she would be free to despise him. Even so she wished that the day would never come.

Emma came to a door and typed in her code. A panel opened and Emma pried her eyelids apart for the retinal scan. It made her eyelids itch but she stayed still. As soon as it was done the door slid open and she saw Clarice on the other side, leaning back in her swivel chair. Clarice smiled when she saw her, stifling a yawn.

"Long night with Calvin?" asked Emma.

"You could say that," Clarice said.

Emma smiled at her. Calvin Rankin was someone she approved of, someone that her smiles were genuine for. Clarice and Calvin were sweet together, and Clarice was another person in Emma's life who deserved happiness. She had worked as an attaché to Janos before returning to Genosha to begin law school at Charles' night school. She'd met Calvin there; him training to be an X-man and her training to be a diplomat. It made for a good story.

"I brought you Hershey's," Emma said.

She slid the bar across the desk to Clarice. Clarice smiled and unwrapped the bar.

"I should be giving you chocolate," she said, "You're an aunt now."

"Her name's Laura," Emma said, her voice proud, "She looks a lot like my sister. Not so much like her husband, but a lot like my sister."

Clarice grinned and then looked down the hall.

"I suppose that's why you're here?" asked Clarice.

"It is, yes," said Emma, "He's got to know these things sometime but Logan won't come down here. He shouldn't have to really."

"And you don't mind?" asked Clarice.

Emma shrugged.

"Anything for my brother-in-law," she said.

Without another word she took off down the hall, her snowy-white heels clicking behind her. She walked past reinforced panes of glass that looked down on reinforced iron rooms. There were hundreds of codes to get into those rooms. Emma didn't need to get into where she was going though. She preferred it that way.

She stopped by the last cell and typed in a code. It would allow her to be heard and seen. She looked up as the light switched on.

"The hell are you doing back?"

Emma smiled politely at Victor Creed. She took in the tubes that conveyed the chemical restraints into his system on a continual pump. Other restraints had been welded into his bones, a detail she took in with no little amount of relish. It had been the only way to keep him down. They still hadn't figured out how to kill him.

"You're an uncle," she said, her voice bright, "Her name's Laura; seven pounds and eight ounces. Both mother and daughter are resting comfortably."

He snarled at her. Ignoring it she clasped her hands in front of her.

"She's very pretty," Emma said.

"The hell do you get off comin' down here and sayin' this shit?" Creed snapped.

Emma cocked her head.

"Her middle name is Christine," said Emma, "A girl's version of my brother's name. Laura Christine Howlett."

Again he snarled.

"Just thought you should know," Emma said, going to shut off the comm.

"I'm getting' out of here one day," hissed Creed, "And I'll feed that thing to Jimmy's slut, you hear me?"

Her hand stopped on the comm button. She turned back to him, no longer smiling.

"No," she said.

"What?"

"You're not going to," Emma said, "Now, seeing how we're both rational people I suppose it is possible that you'll break out of here one day."

She shrugged.

"It's a possibility."

"It'll happen bitch."

Ignoring him Emma put both hands on the reinforced glass and leaned in. She made sure that she was making eye contact with him when she spoke.

"But, even if you do get out," said Emma, "If you ever lay a finger on Kayla or Laura then you won't have to worry about Logan coming after you. You'll have to worry about me."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Is that s'posed'ta scare me? Some teenage bitch trying to intimidate **me**?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Well," Emma said, "I was the one who suggested that they weld the chains to your bones. And do you know why I suggested that?"

Emma smiled her old broken smile, pieces of insanity coming together.

"I've been insane Vic; been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And do you know something?"

She leaned in even further.

"I'm not all here," Emma said, "Not like they all think. They want to believe that I'm alright because they never wanted to shut me away. But deep down I know that there's some part of me that wants to rip everything to shreds. So don't be fooled by my girlish appearance; you touch them and I won't even try to find a way to kill you. I'll **destroy** you. So yes; you should be afraid."

Insanity stained her teeth as she grinned, reaching over and switching off the comm.

* * *

_**A/N: **Now, I know in the comics Logan has a biological son named Daken. He didn't get used for the simple reason that I find Daken an annoying, whiny, unkillable asshole. The only plot arc with him in it that I could stand was when he had to double team with Laura to track someone down. Laura, or X-23, is Logan's clone in the comics. She's an interesting character who develops over time. She goes through a lot of the same struggles as Logan to retain her humanity while simultaneously knowing that it's her beserker killing skills that make her useful. _

_And Emma. Let me just say that I don't think that insanity is like flipping a switch on and off. _


	4. Chapter 4

"Ow!"

Lorna pulled her finger into her mouth and began sucking on the small cut. She glared at the rose bush and stuck out her tongue. She only did it for a few seconds because she needed to keep her mouth closed to stop her finger's bleeding. It didn't stop her from glaring at the offending plant.

Her mother looked over her shoulder at her and walked over.

"Did you try to pick a rose?" she asked.

Lorna nodded, glaring at the yellow flower.

"You can't use your bare hands to pick roses. If you do you'll get hurt," her mother said, "How many times have I warned you that they have thorns?"

"A lot," Lorna mumbled.

"Exactly. It's why you need to use clippers Lorna," her mother admonished, "Otherwise you'll cut yourself."

She reached into her gardening basket and pulled out the clippers. Lorna eyed them suspiciously. She wasn't a fan of all the different tools her mother used for gardening. It was much more fun to just dig with her hands and let them get all muddy. The tools and gloves always took away that pleasure.

"It's not fun," she protested.

"It's fun."

Lorna eyed her suspiciously.

"Well, it's a tamer sort of fun," her mother admitted as she cut the yellow rose and held it in her gloved hand, "But it's still fun."

Lorna jutted out her chin.

"It's not fun if you're not getting dirty when you do it."

Her mother laughed.

"You've been talking to Rahne too much," she said, "Some things require patience, but it's well worth it."

In the background Lorna heard Neena stifle a laugh from her position on the other side of the garden. Lorna frowned at her, feeling strange. She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked down at the ground. Her mother noticed and sat down next to her. Turning her clippers onto the side with the blade her mother began shearing off the thorns. Lorna continued to look down, twisting the green silk of her dress.

"I like Rahne," she said.

"I like Rahne too," her mother replied, "She's a good girl, even if she is a little wild. You two'll be getting into all sorts of trouble when you're older."

She laughed.

"You're getting into all sorts of trouble **now**."

Lorna flushed and pulled her hair in front of her face. It was an old habit of hers.

"We didn't know that the chef had just finished that cake," Lorna said, "And I was just trying to get to the ice cream."

"Which I told you you couldn't have in the first place," her mother said.

"Well…yes…" Lorna said.

Her mother laughed and kissed her forehead. She clipped the rose in half once she was finished removing the thorns. She brushed the thorns off her dress and onto the ground. Her mother looked the flower over carefully before tucking the rose behind her ear. Lorna grinned and touched the soft petals.

"There you go," her mother said, "Wasn't that worth the wait?"

"Yes mother," Lorna said.

Footsteps made Lorna look up. She had expected, perhaps hoped was a better word, to see her father. He often came down when her and her mother were in the rose garden. When she had still been nervous around him it had been the perfect way to see him; outside in a happy place with her mother.

However, he hadn't come down in a long time. Lorna had mentioned this to her mother once, trying hard not to sound too upset. It didn't matter; her mother had known how she felt. She always did. Her mother had explained that he was very busy; Lorna figured that Kings would be, so she had seen less and less of him recently. It still didn't seem fair and she craned her neck to see if he was coming.

Hence her disappointment when Charles walked into the garden. Her mother smiled at his approach and straightened the flower in Lorna's hair.

"Go on with Neena," she said, "I'm sure it's nearly time for your lessons."

Lorna frowned as she got up. Rahne had been telling her stories from her school the last time she'd seen her. She wished she had the courage to broach the subject a year ago, but she'd missed her chance. A new school year had started and Lorna was still taking her lessons in the palace. She was trying to change that.

"Okay mother," she said.

Her mother nodded to Neena. She came over and took Lorna's hand. Lorna waved to Charles. He waved back; he always seemed to have time to wave back or slip her a lollipop. She was glad that he was going to be Rahne's new father; that way it would be like they were related.

Lorna gave a last glance over her shoulder at her mother before adjusting her flower and walking into the palace.

* * *

"The roses are coming on nicely," Charles observed.

Susanna nodded, getting to her feet.

"They seem to like the climate. Lots of life," she said, "I heard Logan's wife had a daughter yesterday."

Charles nodded.

"Her name's Laura."

"Well then, we'll have to send our congratulations," Susanna said, picking up her gardening basket, "It's not every day that you have a daughter; and this is their first child. I'm sure they're enjoying their time off."

"And I'm certain that Kayla's enjoying the new maternity leave laws," Charles said, smirking.

She grinned. There was something infectious about Susanna's good moods. He remembered Moira mentioning how different she was from her husband. Charles admitted that this was true, but unlike Moira he could see how the two of them had gotten together. It wasn't hard when he'd known Erik for as long as he had.

Erik tended to be drawn to people with the personalities that were different from his. His best friend was something of a pacifist while he was militant. He knew that Erik admired certain qualities, even if he himself didn't possess them. Charles could imagine Erik, even more angry and violent than when he'd first met him, meeting someone like Susanna, who was all sunshine and compassion.

She was also, as the new maternity leave laws showed, a woman who could influence politics. Susanna mostly stuck to charity work and education reform, but the maternity leave laws had been near and dear to her. Erik had told him that she'd had to get back to taking in laundry two days after Lorna was born. He could imagine that the experience had left a rather negative impression on her.

So far her involvement in politics were only linked to successful humanitarian efforts, meaning that her image as Erik's queen was a sparkling one.

"Now," he said, "you said you wanted to talk about the programs that are rehabilitating the MRD prisoners?"

"Yes," Susanna said, "Are you sure it's wise to have the new rehabilitation clinic so far away from the city?"

"Some psychiatrists thought that the noise of the city might overwhelm them," Charles said, "Why?"

"Well," Susanna said, "what if they have relatives that are here already?"

Charles shifted on his feet. It was something that he had thought of. The list of missing relatives of Genoshans was still on file in his office. Not everyone had been as lucky as Erik in finding lost family members. Each year people were sent out trying to find them, but the list had now existed for nearly four years. It seemed like it was going to exist for a long time still.

Sometimes prisoners from other MRD facilities did indeed turn out to be the long-lost relatives. However, identifying them could be difficult. Some of them were so far gone that they couldn't remember their own names, let alone others. Others who were identified were too lost to recognize their family.

"I understand that it's the only place that we have room," Susanna continued, "But I was thinking that maybe we could make a shuttle system. Especially for employees. I know that they won't want to move to a more rural environment."

He managed a smile, pushing away his past concerns.

"I think we could manage that," he said, "Anything else?"

Susanna bit her lip and looked off into the distance.

"I want Lorna to go to school," she said.

Charles sighed and rubbed his temples with his hands.

"We tried this last year," he said regretfully, "And the year before that. Erik isn't going to change his mind."

"Yes, but now we've got a secret weapon," Susanna said, her voice conspiratorial.

"Which is?" asked Charles.

She tossed her head.

"Lorna," she said, "Lorna wants to attend school. It's one thing for him to say no to you or me. It's another thing for him to say no when his little girl wants it too."

He blinked at her in surprise. For the most part Lorna had stayed silent about whether or not she wanted to go to school. Lorna was a timid child and Erik had argued that she didn't seem to care one way or another. Charles had seen that she felt lonely and probably had wanted to go to school but was too shy to broach the subject. As long as she stayed silent on the matter they couldn't do anything though.

"She said that to you?" he asked.

Susanna nodded.

"It was right after Rahne left the other day," said Susanna, "Charles, I really want her to go to school. I want normality for her, and now she's finally got a chance to take it. We should start soon."

"Erik will still protest," Charles said.

She paused and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"I know," she said, "But in the end he wants what's best for Lorna. All three of us together will be able to figure out something."

Susanna smiled and Charles nodded. The gesture betrayed more confidence than he felt. He knew just how stubborn his friend could be, but he'd also seen how determined Susanna could be. She was a counter-point to him, not as strong-willed, but fierce when it came to doing the right thing. It would be interesting to see who would win when push came to shove.

"I'm sure we will," he managed.

She nodded, apparently satisfied.

"We'll start planning soon. After your wedding of course," she said, "How's that coming by the way?"

Now he was on more certain ground.

"Splendid," said Charles, "If all goes to plan and nothing insane happens, which I'm not ruling out, I should be married in a month."

She laughed.

"Anything can happen on Genosha," Susanna said, "And I've seen that it most often does. But you'll be fine."

She adjusted her gardening basket.

"Rahne's very excited," Susanna said, "She spent an hour talking about her flower girl gown the other day."

"We wanted to include her," said Charles, "It's…different when the person you're planning on marrying has a child."

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he had told Moira eight months ago that he was willing to be Rahne's father he'd meant it. He'd made an effort to ingratiate himself with her and earn her favor. Now that the date was approaching he was having a few doubts about helping raise the feral child.

Charles wasn't doubting his wish to marry Moira, or to help raise Rahne. He was still had both feet planted firmly in that plan. He was starting to worry that he wasn't going to be up for it though. Charles didn't want to fail at something so important. With the wedding so close he felt like he did on the first day that he took office as Prime Minister.

"You have to consider their feelings," said Charles, "You have to remember that you're not just newlyweds; you're parents too."

"Well spoken," Susanna said.

Charles opened his eyes again and let out a deep breath.

"I'm lucky she likes me."

"Oh come on Charles," said Susanna, "You're hard not to like. Don't worry about it; you'll do fine."

He swallowed nervously. He sure hoped so.


	5. Chapter 5

"Rahne, hold still."

In response Rahne fidgeted. Raven let out a frustrated breath as she tried to make the final alterations to the bow on the dress. Her soon-to-be-niece couldn't stay still even for a minute and it was stretching out her dress-making project. Making Rahne's flower girl dress shouldn't have taken more than a few days. Now it was into its third week.

Raven loved making dresses. She loved creating accessories and being able to see something come of her efforts. At the same time she hated kneeling while sewing the garments of someone standing on a stool. Her back and knees ached and her fingers were covered with needle pricks. Rahne's inability to stay still wasn't helping matters.

Her fidgety nature could be part of her mutation, but she noticed that Rahne had never like to stay in the same place for more than a few minutes. Raven had thought that it was an effect of being without her mother at first, but then Moira had arrived and she'd learned that it was just how Rahne was. She was a bouncy little girl and Charles was going to have his hands full with her.

Raven grimaced as she picked up a needle. It was hard to think of Charles as the father of the little girl in front of her. Although she wasn't biologically related to him, she wasn't really related to Moira for that matter, he was treating it like she would be. It was something to admire, but sometimes it was all a little much.

Him being Prime Minister was strange enough. The past year or so had been insane. Above that the world had changed radically in the past five years. Raven was going to school with her blue skin and fiery hair. Her brother was an elected official, preparing to marry a woman he was madly in love with who had a daughter. From the looks he was giving Moira Raven figured they'd be making room for some more children soon enough.

She looked up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Raven had turned sixteen. It was a good age, classic age, and it brought to mind images of candles, dresses, and cars. Perhaps that was what girls back in the states thought would happen when they turned sixteen. For many of them it might actually happen.

It wasn't going to happen for her, not like that anyway. She had never much cared for candles on a birthday cake; she was a pie type of girl. As for cars Raven had known how to drive since she was thirteen, in case Charles or Erik had been wounded. She made her own dresses, and had been getting famous for her fashion sense on Genosha.

The world was certainly changing and she was changing with it. She was making good friends with Clarice since her training days training with Azazel. Clarice was taking advanced classes at the Institute, trying to move away from fighting and get a law degree. The fact that Raven could see why she wanted that said quite a bit about her own progress from the year before when she would have been baffled.

Her new level of maturity had opened up all sorts of avenues for her. Clarice was much more sociable than her counterpart; Emma. Raven still didn't trust Emma from the days that she would go into her head without permission. Clarice had argued that Emma hadn't been in possession of her faculties then and Raven had let the matter drop. It hadn't changed anything though.

Either way Clarice was turning out to be a good friend. Since Clarice spent a great deal of time with Calvin Rankin and Azazel Raven was beginning to know them too. She'd been shocked to learn that, despite what she had thought, Azazel was only twenty-two. Clarice had spoken of him like he was a father, but he was barely two years older than her.

She hadn't known him during the revolution. Azazel, as their best teleporter and swordsman, was one for skulking around in the shadows. He was one of thier covert operations. Raven had known that he did the dirty tasks, assassinations and melee combat. It wasn't as though she had ever seen him. She had just been given a position on the council out of courtesy since she ran so many errands.

Still, from what she had heard she'd pictured someone older. When she'd met him he'd spoken with a very collected air. He'd certainly acted like he was older, and she was sure that the scar over his eye helped him look the part. His fatherly relationship with a woman who was his peer was still strange to her though.

Raven had once asked her about that. Clarice had paused and thought for a long time.

"I know it doesn't seem like much but...it was different when I had just come out of the cells," she said, "I didn't have much control over my powers and…well…thank God you've never had to go into those cells. It's hard. And then…he just took us in Raven. Me and Emma. There's not much more to say than that."

And Raven supposed that she didn't understand. People struck unlikely alliances in desperate situations. For instance; her brother and Erik. The two of them were complete opposites in many ways and yet they made a strong friendship. They had built a country together and protected it from so much.

Now they were moving on with their lives. They were rulers now, but they were also seeing to their lives. It was the part after the fairytale was over that htey were seeing to now. Erik had a wife and child, whisked out of hiding. Charles was getting married. She thought it odd that their situations would be almost a reflection of the other. Both would be almost the same age with human wives and mutant daughters who were the same age.

Laughing to herself she finished sewing the bow on.

"I think you're done Rahne," said Raven.

Rahne clapped her hands together and swished around in her dress. It was in the Genoshan fashion, and there were certain restrictions because of the occasion, but Raven had gone all out on it. She hadn't been allowed to do Moira's dress, so she had settled for Rahne's. It was probably for the best. She had little experience with the crystals and gems that were being used for Moira's bodice. Raven couldn't sew a veil either.

What she had made for Rahne was still lovely. It was a light blue with gold patterns on it. Raven had gone out with the traditional fashions for Rahne's gown. The sash went from her collarbone to her hips, tied into a bow in the back that flowed to the ground behind her. A few stitches made sure that, when tied, the bow would stay in the perfect shape.

Small crystals dripped from the hem. When Rahne moved they caught the light and reflected onto the silk. Raven was proud that she had managed the complicated balancing act that they required. As for Genoshan tradition she would be wearing flowers in her hair, as well as every other woman in the audience.

There were other plans for Moira's hair, but her daughter's ornamentation was another matter. They had decided on magnolias for Rahne. The cream flowers would look good with the dress. Susanna and Lorna already had the monopoly on roses. Raven thought she'd look good with lilacs to complement her skin.

Her crowning glory was the sleeves. They were tight but still allowed her freedom of movement. Sheer blue material connected in the back of the gown, attaching to the sleeves and giving them a train. When she stood in front of Rahne and got a good look at her it looked like the little girl had wings.

Rahne's dress was the only one she had been able to make. She'd been allowed to design the bridesmaids' dresses, but she wouldn't have had time to make four dresses for adults. Katherine, Susanna, and Kayla were also living busy lives, especially since Kayla had had a baby a few weeks prior. They wouldn't have teh time either.

Even though Erik and Susanna were attending the ceremony in official capacity as befit their royal station they were also involved in the ceremony. It would be a poor day when Charles had to choose a best man who wasn't Erik. The whole ceremony would be something of a lie if he picked anyone else.

"This is so pretty!" Rahne exclaimed, "Thank you!"

She swirled around one more time before pausing, her eyes bright.

"Can I go show my mom?"

Raven laughed and nodded.

"Go ahead."

Rahne jumped off the stool. She picked up her skirt and hurried out of the room. Raven smiled after her. That girl was already like her brother.

* * *

Moira sighed and rubbed her temples. She'd known that it was going to be hard getting married to Charles. There was so much to consider and do, even when the wedding was so close. She'd wanted to marry him as soon as he'd asked her, and privately at that, but they had an image to keep up.

She opened the door and shut it behind her. Moira and Rahne had moved into Charles' house for the week before the wedding. For the sake of appearances she was staying in a guest bedroom with Charles' on the next floor. In reality she didn't think that she would be using the room very much in the next few days.

It still had its uses, especially for when she wanted to be alone. She laid down on her bed, stretching. Moira closed her eyes and wondered if she could just fall asleep there. There wasn't anything for her to do for another few hours. All of her work was done for the day. Downstairs Raven was finishing Rahne's gown. Her daughter hadn't been involved in any of the legwork, so it was all still exciting to her. Moira was excited too, but she was also exhausted.

The door opened and Moira sighed. She cracked one eye open to see Charles come in. He smiled and lay down next to her.

"Busy day?" he asked.

"Incredibly so," Moira said, "The wedding's in a week and there's still so much to do and someone needs to figure out the cake…"

"I've got it," he said.

"Of course you do," Moira said, "Of course you do."

He shifted to his side so he leaned over her face. He smirked.

"I'm Prime Minister," he said, "I'm so very good at multi-tasking."

"And I'm not?" asked Moira, "I'm the former CIA agent and I run quite a bit of the intelligence in your country."

Charles smirked again.

"I'm not the one who collapsed of exhaustion during the afternoon," he said.

"And I also don't drink three pots of coffee a day," Moira said, "You're going to give yourself an ulcer."

He shrugged.

"I eat things with it," he said, "And it'll certainly keep you on your toes after the wedding, having a husband with an ulcer."

Despite herself Moira grinned. She fought it down and said;

"You'll go bald."

Charles shook his head. He picked up her hand and ran it through his hair.

"Do you feel these lustrous locks Moira?" he said, "Do you feel how much they want to stay on my head?"

"Charles," Moira said, rolling her eyes.

He ignored her and continued.

"They'll never go away. Never."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You never know," Moira said, "I might just get tired of your attitude and shave it off one night."

"You wouldn't dare."

Moira grinned and grasped the back of his head.

"Now you know not to make me angry."

He leaned down until his nose was centimeters away from hers.

"You still wouldn't dare," he said, "I have a public image to maintain."

"Bald men look distinguished," said Moira.

Charles opened his mouth but footsteps cut him off. They were quick and Moira instantly recognized them as her daughter's. She all but shoved Charles off and sat up. Charles was quick enough to take the hint and moved to the other side of the bed. They were positioned as if they were having a conversation by the time Rahne burst into the room.

"Mom, look at my dress!"

She swirled around in the fanciful garment that Raven had made for her. Moira smiled and got off the bed. She knelt in front of her daughter and put her hands on her shoulder.

"You look beautiful Rahne."

Rahne grinned and glanced over to Charles. Moira could see the flicker of anticipation on her face. Although Rahne and Charles had been close before he'd announced that he was going to marry Moira things could be strange at times. Charles was smart and kind enough to know what to say.

"You look lovely," he said.

Rahne's grin broadened.

"Thanks Ch-dad," she said.

Moira kissed her on the forehead. Rahne had been struggling to call Charles 'dad' since she found out about his impending marriage to her mother. Moira knew that it was a title that her daughter hadn't made use of in the past. It made her wonder what had happened to her sweet little girl, but if Rahne had wanted to tell her she would have already. So she was content to help Rahne transition to this new stage in her life.

Charles smiled at the use of the new title. He'd been having worries too, she knew that. He never voiced them; he wasn't that kind of person. It hadn't stopped him from entertaining fears. However, Moira could see that they would be fine. Now, if they could only finish up the wedding plans without her going insane.


	6. Chapter 6

August 27, 1959

Susanna finished with the last of her make-up. She was always careful not to over-do it, careful to only use light colors. There were a few reasons for that. Her mother had come from a generation that believed a girl with too much make-up was a tramp and had managed to imbed that very deeply in her daughter.

She was also unused to having so much variety. It seemed like now, if she wanted something, she had merely to ring for it. The world was at her fingertips and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. Susanna had rarely worn make-up because of the expense, now she could look at fifteen different lipsticks if she wished, with twice as many eye shadows and mascaras.

And make-up was just the beginning. Erik had filled carved boxes with jewelry shaped like the roses she loved to tend. She had hairclips and diamonds, bracelets and necklaces. He'd wanted to replace the cheap wedding ring he'd gotten her when they were teenagers, but she'd refused to let him. And, no matter what he did, her favorite necklace was the faded silver rose on a chain he'd gotten her six years ago.

However, there was also a very practical reason to refrain from caking make-up on. There was an image that Susanna had to project, even at a friend's wedding. It wasn't the same image that tailed around her husband and Charles. She was glad of that. They had to appear in control at all times; they were the people who had led Genosha and its inhabitants to the prosperity and freedom that they now enjoyed, who would continue to do so.

Susanna had never been a revolutionary or a politician, but as a young woman living in constant dread that someone would take her little daughter away she knew the importance of playing a role. She'd had to be on her guard continuously to make sure that no one ever saw her as anything out of the ordinary. So did her husband and Charles, which was why they put on their public personas whenever they went out.

Her role wasn't as complicated as theirs and she was fortunate that it was one that she was actually rather adept at. Like them and other revolutionary leaders, Susanna had a legend attached to her. She was Erik's lost love, the wife of his youth and mother of his child, another mutant. She had bravely stood by him after learning he was a mutant and had fled with him from persecution.

Not many people knew the details of the story, but they knew that she had stayed with him until he had forced her to leave because of the increasing danger. She was a woman desperately in love who had parted only to protect their child. After parting her life had been fraught with the danger of trying to keep their daughter safe, waiting for news of him. In turn he had fought a revolution, creating a safe place for them to come and live as a family.

Then he had succeeded, become king, sent for her, and they were now living their happily ever after. Put like that it was like a fairytale. Even when the details were added in it still had a magical quality to it. Susanna had personified the hopes of every mutant living in Genosha. They had all hoped that they would find their family and be reunited one day. What better way to keep that hope alive than to see their king reunited with his wife and daughter?

That was the image she had to personify. She had to be the strong and loving wife, the very image of the sacrificing mother. No one could ever know about the nights where she had fallen asleep on the couch of her ramshackle apartment, crying into a pillow so Lorna wouldn't hear her. They couldn't know that part of her had believed that Erik had died and that she felt dead too, struggling along because she wasn't able to give up.

Somehow the Genoshans had gotten the idea that she had gone to extreme lengths to keep her daughter safe. This was true, although once again no one knew the particulars. Even if she had never been physically strong she had certainly decided that she would do anything for her daughter.

She had bribed officials for their records, destroying them in a fire and scattering the ashes afterwards. Lorna had already been asleep that night so she had allowed herself to cry. Her actions might have protected her daughter but she knew it was a double-edged sword as well. If her husband was still out there, looking for them, then it would be that much more difficult to find them.

Susanna had used a gun three times in her life. The first time had been when she was travelling with Erik, running from the MRD. They had caught up with them on the road. Admittedly she had used it just to get more metal out for him to use. The second time had been shortly after they parted. She had used it to threaten a guard at the California border. He had seen the weapon and let them pass, not even requiring her to fire it.

The last time she had used the weapon had been to threaten Moira. She had thought that the MRD had come for Lorna. The gun had been unused for over a year when that happened, but still loaded and ready. Her hands had been shaking, knowing that she might have to actually kill someone that time. Luckily it had just been the biggest misunderstanding in her life.

It was over though, all of the fear and hiding. Even now some of that fear lingered though. Sometimes Susanna would wake up in the middle of the night and have a moment of blind panic. It took everything to remember that she wasn't sleeping in a single bed with a broken mattress that she shared with her daughter or on the sagging couch. She wasn't living hand to mouth in an apartment that was falling apart.

No, things were different. Instead she was in a grand house, a palace, and her daughter was sleeping down the hall in comfort. Lying next to her was her husband, one arm draped possessively around her waist. The first time the moment of confusion had occurred she had cried out, prompting him to wake up and ask her what was the matter. His anger over her fear, not at her but at the situation that had caused it, made her be sure to ride out that panic in silence in the future.

Lorna still bore scars of their past situation too. She had been little more than a baby when Erik had left them, her childish lisp still in place. Lorna had always been close to her father, ever since she was a baby. Erik could get her to eat or stop fussing when Susanna couldn't. She was very much her father's daughter, she had shared his looks and his stubborn personality even at a young age.

Then he had left to keep them safe, something a four-year-old child wouldn't be able to understand. At first she had cried out for her father every day. She'd asked endless questions about where he was and Susanna had tried to explain. It didn't do any good. They had been so alike and he had loved his daughter. It made Susanna want to sob, making her doubt her decision and believe that she should have forced Erik to take him with them.

Then Lorna had stopped asking about him. Somehow this was worse than her daughter asking why her father wasn't coming to read a bedtime story. Susanna had rushed to preserve her daughter's dwindling memories of her father. It wasn't easy. By the time Lorna was seven she had only vague memories of her father.

It was ironic in a twisted way. By the time she was seven she also resembled her father more than ever. She had begun to manipulate metal and her hair had turned mint-green overnight. Susanna had rushed to hide her daughter's hair, staining it with coffee and tea leaves when she had the time and wrapping it in scarves when she didn't. At one point she had contemplated shaving all of her daughter's hair off and pretending that she'd had a childhood illness. In the end she decided that that would raise too many questions.

Moira coming when she did was a miracle. Susanna had struggled to help her daughter understand and control her emerging powers. The rent was due and her hours were becoming longer. Her daughter was becoming harder to hide. She felt she was going to have to move again soon and she was having a hard time figuring out how she was going to go through another year of hiding.

In her wildest dreams, dreams that she admitted to herself were very unrealistic, she had imagined that Erik would come back for them. He would have found a place outside MRD control, perhaps somewhere in Europe or Canada. Susanna didn't know which. He would smuggle them there and they would live like they had before the MRD had come after them. It hadn't been perfect, but it had been above the poverty line.

That was her biggest hope, the fantasy that had kept her warm at night. Instead she had found out that her husband was a king now, reigning over a nation ruled primarily by mutants. A whole revolution had been fought for her daughter's kind and Susanna was elevated into a position of wealth and power. Her daughter was given her father back when she needed him most and everything had worked out. A fairytale indeed.

The surreality of the situation was breathtaking. Sometimes she would look out the window at her rose gardens and see Lorna playing with Rahne. Neena would stand in the corner, watching the two girls and making sure nothing happened. Bodyguards were a constant in her life now, but she had never seen any danger up close.

Neena was Lorna's favorite so Erik assigned her to tail the girl most days. Her snowy white skin would glint in the sunlight, walking around as though nothing was odd about having such skin with black spots. Lorna's hair would be as green as the day it had turned. Her daughter would be wearing a silk Genoshan dress and running after Rahne, who was constantly morphing her shape.

Erik had walked in on her during that time once to catch her crying. Unlike before he didn't ask what it was about and had simply held her. Susanna had always known that he wasn't one for grandiose displays of affection. He would generally do nothing more elaborate than hold her hand in public. Yet, he was always there when she needed him the most. That was what really counted.

And Susanna was fine with that because she knew, knew without a doubt, that he loved her. It was a concept that she held very dear to her. They had both changed considerably since the beginning of their marriage, Susanna wasn't denying that. One thing she was glad of was how he regarded her.

She'd been a rather naïve teenager when he'd married her. She'd felt that he'd done it because he cared about her, cared about the future they were going to have together, the baby that grew in her stomach. It was only when he said his vows that she realized that, no, it was for some sense of duty. There was no affection behind it.

In hindsight she knew she shouldn't have been so shocked. There had been signs but she had pushed them away. She'd wanted him to be in love with her, so to some extent she had fooled herself. Susanna had lost her parents not too long before and she'd wanted love. The illusion had melted away on their wedding night and she had been left bereft and tearful, confronting Erik on the subject in a way that could only be called timid.

And she'd hurt him. Susanna still wasn't sure how she could have hurt him if he didn't care about her, but it had been there. He'd tried to make up for it in his rough way and, for the first month at least, she hadn't wanted to think about it. As a result the two had tiptoed around each other, more like confused children than a married couple.

Of course, Susanna wasn't someone to ignore the realities of her life. She had never pretended to be a warrior, but she knew she had talents. She could move on with her life, power through a situation and overcome her grief. It was harder at some times than others, but she could do it. It was how she had survived after her parents' deaths, how she would survive as a single mother with Lorna.

Her other talent was compassion. She still loved Erik, even if he didn't love her back. The idea of leaving had never crossed her mind. In practical terms she would have difficulty supporting their child even with him. However, the real roadblock was that she could see that, despite his lack of love for her, he needed her.

She could see that he was a person who needed someone, someone who was willing to stand by his side through good and bad times. Erik wanted someone to protect, someone who would care about him in turn. Above all he needed someone who would fulfill both of those if he couldn't offer those terms back.

They were steep, unfair terms. Yet, Susanna had already filled them. She could recognize, even if he couldn't, what would happen if she left. He wouldn't be able to deal with it. So she stuck it out with him as her stomach grew. The doctors hadn't been able to tell her the child's gender, so she had prepared for either. She got the crib ready and gathered baby clothes. Susanna had run baby names by Erik, him watching her with a curious expression.

Although she put up a brave front she did have doubts. They didn't concern her very much, she had accepted his terms and become determined to live her life. What concerned her was the child growing inside her. She could live with Erik's terms. How would those terms be explained to a child though? It was the same problem she would have with Lorna years later as she tried to explain why her father had left.

"It's okay," she'd whispered to her stomach, "You're his. He'll love you. I know it."

And her faith had been rewarded on the day of Lorna's birth. Susanna had nearly burst into tears when she saw the way he looked at their daughter. He was going to care about her. Their daughter would grow up with loving parents. Everything was going to be fine and she had settled back to rest after her ordeal.

Then he had looked up at her and said the three words that had changed her life.

"I love you."

When those words had left his lips there was no way she could keep the tears back. She'd kept that look and those words with her locked deep in her heart throughout the worst times. And when he'd said them again years later as she looked over her rose garden she had cried again, out of relief that it was over.

"Are you ready?"

She looked over her shoulder at Erik and smiled.

"Is Lorna all ready?" she countered.

"She's going pull the flowers out of her hair if we don't hurry up," Erik said drily.

Susanna touched her own hair where roses and been woven into the plaits. They were part of the wedding party so they didn't have to wear thier crowns for the occasion. Since her parents weren't wearing thier crowns she didn't have to either. It was a heavy thing for someone so young.

With a final touch of gold eye shadow Susanna got up, smoothing her dress.

"How do I look?" she asked.

His eyes scanned over her, settling on the rose choker on her neck. He always loved it when she wore something that he'd bought her. He gave her a brief nod, which was the same as many men dropping thier jaws or grinning at how thier wives looked.

Without another word he held out his hand. Susanna smiled and took it, her bracelets clinking together as they settled. He gave her another short nod as they walked out of their room. No, he wasn't one to show physical affection and his stiffness could seem harsh to outsiders at times. Yet, she knew him better than all that. He loved her, and that was all that really mattered.


	7. Chapter 7

"Have these buttons always been this fiddly?" asked Charles.

Erik rolled his eyes before walking over. He looked at his friend's cufflinks for a minute before he buttoned them up with ease.

"Feeling a little out of sorts are we?" Erik asked.

Charles sighed and looked around. He was glad that the rest of the groomsmen were getting the car ready. He could do without this piece of humiliation on top of everything else.

"I've never liked these uniforms. We clink when we walk," he said, "It just seems so unnecessary. I mean, we're not soldiers anymore."

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"We're the most decorated soldiers of the Revolution," said Erik, "And you know that that's well-warranted. Besides, we let the rest of the council decide whether or not to give us medals. Not to mention that people expect their leaders to be the most decorated amongst them when they fought alongside them."

He paused.

"Well, if we gave a bronze star to Logan each time he was injured in the line of duty he would outstrip us," Erik said, "We'd also be out of bronze."

Charles laughed but it was a strangled sound. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. Erik cocked his head to the side.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm about to be married in a very public ceremony," said Charles, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm perfect, right as rain."

"No need to take that tone," Erik said.

"I know, I know," Charles said.

He sighed and sat down on a nearby chair. Charles ran a hand through his hair before looking up at his friend.

"This just feels a little overwhelming at times," he said, "All the publicity we're getting…how do you manage it?"

"By having a wife who can be nice to reporters," Erik said, his voice dry, "Sometimes I really do just want to crush their cameras."

Charles smiled and got up.

"At least I'm marrying a CIA agent," he said, "She should be able to keep them away from us for a while."

"Perhaps."

The door opened and Logan stepped in. A thick plume of cigar smoke followed him before he put it out in a nearby ash tray. He jerked his thumb in the direction on the door.

"Car's here," he grunted, "You two ready or not?"

Erik looked over at Charles.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said.

* * *

Moira, like most other people, had pictured her wedding at one point or another. There had been the times when she had seen it as a fantasy affair. She'd be some fairytale princess marrying her prince. The fantasy hadn't lasted very long; she'd traded her fantastical ideas about romance for practical decisions.

It seemed odd that, now that she'd done that, she'd find that fairytale situation. Her dress was studded with crystals and gems with silver patterns traced over the white silk. Her sleeves covered her knuckles with silver lace. The bodice was a piece that clipped together over the dress, studded with crystals and diamonds. It was stiff, encompassing little of her back but most of her torso.

The wedding dress personified how much of a show their wedding was going to be. The dress had more of a train than anyone could think practical or necessary. The veil was even longer. The vague thought that they should have gotten someone to carry it crossed her mind. She dismissed it. That would just cause even more consternation.

Behind her Susanna helped adjust the veil. From what Moira knew Susanna's wedding to Erik had been a simple affair. They had just gone down to the courthouse and signed a document. From what she'd said the whole thing had taken less than thirty minutes. They had been young then and Lorna had been on the way. Still, it seemed strange to think that she was being married with so much unnecessary ceremony when Susanna, the country's queen, had had a simple affair.

Kayla's wedding had been a fairly small event too. It was better in those circumstances. Her fiancé's brother had just tried to kill her and she'd just been reunited with her sister. They had wanted to be married quickly and with the minimum amount of fuss. Moira hadn't heard about Katherine's experience so she figured that it was probably average. Raven was unmarried so she couldn't ask about that.

Figuring out what to do with the children of the married bridesmaids had caused some stir. Katherine's children were fine with their father, but Logan and Erik were participating in the wedding. Emma had volunteered to watch Laura though, and Lorna was flanked by Neena and Clarice. No member of the royal family was allowed to go anywhere without a bodyguard. In such a public place there were people watching from the upper levels as well.

Kayla helped lower her secondary headband over her hairstyle. With a small click she secured it and Susanna nodded. In the back Katherine finished the last clip of the bodice. Raven had helped her struggle with it. From Raven's quiet curse words Moira could tell that they'd been having quite a few problems with it.

However, they were finished. The bodice was in place, pushing up her back and making her stand straight. As one her bridesmaids stepped back, all smiling. Swallowing hard Moira looked at herself in the mirror. She breathed out. Moira had been prepared for the sight of herself in the dress on her wedding day, but it all seemed so unreal.

How had she gone from a seemingly normal life, albeit one that was tied to the CIA, to this? It had been a long road but it was still a strange one. What would Levine say when he saw her like this? He'd been there on the first day that she'd stepped into her new workplace, already cynical and ready to start work.

This was too fantastical and for a moment Moira felt overwhelmed.

"You're like a fairy mom," Rahne said.

Moira looked down at her daughter and managed a smile.

"Thanks Rahne."

"You really do look beautiful," Kayla said.

She managed another smile. Still feeling slightly disoriented she looked back at the mirror and closed her eyes. Steadying herself she stepped away from the mirror. It didn't matter how she looked in the end or how surreal it felt. She was getting married that day to the man she loved, and that was the important thing.

"Alright," she said, "let's get going."

* * *

"Charles Francis Xavier and Moira Rose MacTaggert, the covenant which you are about to make meant to be a sacred expression of your love for each other," the Reverend said, "As you pledge your vows and commit your lives to each other, we ask that you do so in all seriousness, and yet with a deep sense of joy; with the deep conviction that you are committing yourselves to a growing relationship of trust, mutual support, and love."

Charles breathed out, smiling nervously at Moira. He took another deep breath but refrained from fidgeting. He wondered where all of these nerves were coming from and why. Perhaps it was the eyes of the international community on him. That had happened in the past, but when it had Erik had shared half, if not more, of the spotlight. Now it was just him and his bride-to-be.

All around them the cathedral where Genoshan royalty had been married for centuries stood filled. The first rows were dedicated to family and friends, mostly X-men. Levine had managed to come too, a representative from the CIA. Apparently they had a new director who understood how useful Levine's connections to Genosha could be. They might not be resurrecting the hunt for the MRD, but they were remaining friendly.

Whatever it was he knew that it wasn't coming from any lingering doubts. At least he'd managed to get rid of those before he came to the altar. He knew what he wanted. He'd known what he wanted for a very long time, only daring to believe it could be possible after she quit the CIA. If there were complications, he would welcome them.

The nerves might have also been a result of seeing her in her wedding dress for the first time. Rahne had scattered the flowers before her and then she had walked out, almost glowing from the light reflected by the crystals on her dress. She looked almost ethereal and he felt lost. The Moira he'd known had always been beautiful but encased in work clothes. She'd only worn a Genoshan dress once at Logan and Kayla's wedding. Back then he'd thought it was the only time he'd see her as such. Now, encased in all the traditional trappings of a Genoshan bride, he felt like his throat was swelling.

In short, there were too many reasons for him to feel nervous for him to zero in on one.

"Charles, do you understand and accept this responsibility," the Reverend intoned, glancing at him, "and do you promise to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

Charles' smile gained some confidence. At least this was a question that he could answer with ease.

"I do."

The Reverend nodded.

"Moira, do you understand and accept this responsibility," said the Reverend, turning to her, "and do you promise to do your very best each day to create a loving, healthy, and happy marriage?"

She looked Charles in the eye. He felt braver; there was no hesitation there.

"I do."

"The rings," the Reverend said.

Erik stepped forward and passed them to him.

"The wedding ring is a symbol of eternity. It is an outward sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites two hearts in endless love," said the Reverend, "And now as a token of your love and of your deep desire to be forever united in heart and soul, you Charles, may place a ring on the finger of your bride."

He placed the ring in Charles' hand. Charles breathed deeply before slipping it onto Moira's finger. He held her hand for a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing.

"Moira," he said, going over the words he had memorized in his head, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you."

Moira tilted her head at him, the crystals dripping from her headband swaying with the movement. He released her hand and she looked at the Reverend.

"By the same token Moira," he said, turning his attention to her, "you may place a ring on the finger of your groom."

He gave her the other ring. She took Charles hand and put the ring on his finger, smiling as she did so.

"Charles," Moira said, withdrawing her hand, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you."

Charles returned her smile. It was almost over. His chest contracted painfully, knowing what was coming.

"Now, if any man has reason why these two should not be wed, let them come forward or forever hold thy peace."

The tone in the Reverend's voice was final. It showed that he wasn't going to truck with anyone who would interrupt them no matter what he was saying. Charles felt a wave of gratitude towards him for that. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Erik smirk. All of a sudden it became apparent that he'd made it very clear to the Reverend that the words were only a formality.

Charles had to agree. The words were traditional and had to be included, but he had always hated them. The silence continued for a few seconds and the Reverend cleared his throat. He wasn't waiting very long to see if someone got any ideas. Once again Charles was grateful, and turned his attention to more important matters.

"For as much as Charles and Moira have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and these witnesses, and thereto have pledged their faithfulness each to the other, and have pledged the same by the giving and receiving each of a ring," the Reverend said, "by the authority invested in me as a minister of the gospel according to the laws of the Republic of Genosha, I pronounce that they are husband and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

He reached out and took her hands, clasping them tightly. Moira squeezed his hands back, smiling broadly.

"Those that God has joined together," The Reverend said, "let no man put asunder."

The words rang out through the hall. Just like the words meant to see if there were any reason why they shouldn't be married, there was a certain spin on them. They rang with a finality. He'd have to thank Erik for arranging that later. After everything he had gone through with Moira he wasn't about to let anything take her away.

The Reverend closed his book.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Charles tilted his head forward and kissed Moira, her headpiece brushing up against his forehead. He kissed her for a few seconds longer than necessary before pulling away.

"May I now present to you Charles and Moira Xavier of the Republic of Genosha."

Music blared and he gripped her hand. The assembled company rose and Charles caught Levine grinning at Moira. He smiled at the man too; he was Moira's closest friend after all. Together they left the Cathedral, stopping for a moment for Moira's other hand to find Rahne's. They were a family now.


	8. Chapter 8

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Charles.

Moira nodded, looking over the coastline with content. Waves were crashing on the rocks below them and the sun was just beginning to set. Ten minutes away their secluded honeymoon cottage stood, cleverly hidden from photographers. A week of seclusion by the seaside was just what they needed after the tumultuous time that had proceeded the wedding. They both needed the time off.

A week wasn't much, but neither of them could afford to take too much time off of their work. Charles was Prime Minister, and the country called. If there were any developments with the Hellions or the Intelligence services Moira would have to be reached. Despite their remote location she knew that Charles had an emergency line with Erik. She had a similar one in the cottage, although she knew that their subordinates or, in Charles' case, his co-worker, were trying not to bother them. She appreciated it.

"I've never seen this part of the island," she said, "It's hard to believe that such a small island has so many secrets."

He smiled at her and put an arm around her shoulder. She leaned in and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"How'd you find this place?"

He grinned.

"During the revolution we had to find all sorts of places that were out of the way to hide. A few miles from here we set up camp," he said, "There was an abandoned mine we used for a few weeks while we liberated the last facilities."

Charles sighed.

"It was…chaotic to say the least. We had over a thousand people with us, and we were expecting more from the last facility," he said, "We kept to ourselves, trying to keep under the radar until we could get to the last of the prisoners."

He rolled his shoulder.

"But we had to establish a perimeter and get the lay of the land," he continued, "We took a scouting mission out here once and I just stood and looked."

He remained silent for a few minutes and Moira turned her head to him.

"And what did you see?" she prompted.

"It's…hard to describe," he said, "We'd been fighting and running for so long. Two nights before Erik had approached me with the idea of making Genosha a homeland for mutants. He also…"

Charles paused before continuing.

"He also told me about the wife and daughter that he had parted from to keep them safe," he said, "It was hard to say no to him after that. I knew he wanted to bring his family to a safe place, and that others must be feeling the same thing."

He swallowed.

"Yet, part of me was troubled with what we were trying to do," he continued, "We were painting a giant target on ourselves for other nations. Back then we still thought the MRD was affiliated with the world's governments."

"I understand," Moira said.

Charles smiled and kissed the side of her head.

"I suppose I would have been foolish not to feel like we were tottering over some great abyss," he said, "And I've always been cautious."

He paused again, this time lasting longer. She squeezed his hand and waited for him to continue in his own time.

"And then, there was this moment when I was alone out here," he said, "And it just came over me, why shouldn't we have a homeland? And if we should have a place like that, why shouldn't it be Genosha? It was a country with a bloody past for mutants, but perhaps it could be rebuilt and be a model for other nations."

"Lofty goals," Moira said.

"I was younger then, still clinging to the last of my naivety," he said, "If you can believe it after all of this, I was still a little naïve."

She smiled and he let out a small laugh.

"It's just, we'd been running and in fear for years. Some of us had been imprisoned and then forced to fight for their freedom," he said, "And now we were being offered the opportunity to rest. It would have been foolish and selfish to turn it down."

"You didn't though," Moira said.

"No," he laughed, "I didn't. And look what happened."

He gave her an adoring look.

"There's a safe place for us, where a mutant can marry a human and not feel the least bit afraid," said Charles, nuzzling into her hair, "Things have gotten complicated since the UN found out we exist, since the world found out. And I think we still have some dark times ahead. But…even so…"

She sighed as his lips ghosted over her ear.

"I think we can weather it."

Moira pulled away and smiled at him, kissing him lightly on the lips. He pulled her in for a deeper kiss before pulling away.

"The sun's nearly down," he said, "We should get inside. It can get very cold near the coastline, and believe me when I say I found that out the hard way."

"Alright," she agreed.

He laced his fingers with hers and they began walking back to the house. Their wedding bands clinked together as they walked.

"So," he mused, "what do you think our daughter's up to?"

Moira laughed. She loved the sound of that, 'their daughter'.

"I'm sure she's getting into all sorts of trouble with Lorna," Moira said.

* * *

"Could you pass me a pillow?" asked Lorna.

Rahne nodded and passed her a pillow pilfered from a downstairs sofa. Her parents were out on their honeymoon and, ever since the evening of the wedding, she'd been having an extended sleepover with Lorna. It was exciting in a way. School didn't start for another week or two so it was like one big celebration.

She looked up. All around them the walls of their pillow fort loomed. They had begun tacking blankets over it for a roof. Inside were more cushions and some other blankets. They were planning to snuggle up with flashlights and books later. Lorna had already procured promises of a bowl of popcorn from her mother.

"I think we're done," Lorna announced.

She stepped down and wiped her hands on her nightgown. Rahne stood by her and they surveyed their work. It had been made in an hour, and they were both proud of it. They were getting better at building their pillow forts. They always had to be taken down the next morning, but they were fun to build in the night.

"Come on," Rahne said.

They crawled inside, sitting down and grabbing their flashlights. The light illuminated the small space and Lorna grinned.

"I like doing this," she said.

"Me too," said Rahne, "Do you think we could try camping outside sometime?"

Lorna frowned.

"I don't think so," she said, "Unless we want Neena to come with us."

"Neena's always following us around outside," Rahne grumbled.

"Dad says that since I'm a princess I have to have a bodyguard," Lorna said, "He says that it's important."

Rahne rolled her eyes. In some ways it was very magical to have a princess for a friend. Lorna always wore the pretties clothes and, with her flowing hair, she looked every inch the fairytale princess. Her father was intimidating, more so than her mother was warm. She knew that Charles, her father now, was friends with him. That meant that he couldn't be as intimidating as all that.

Besides, he was Lorna's father. And she liked Lorna.

"So she has to follow us around all the time," Lorna said, "Or me anyway. It's something about safety, so she has to be with us."

She paused.

"Except when we lose her," she added.

Rahne grinned.

"Except when we lose her," Rahne agreed.

"You're good at that," Lorna said, "You're very clever. I wish you could stay with me all the time."

Rahne sighed and pulled her legs up to her chin. She wished she could be around more too. Lorna was the first real friend that she had allowed herself. After her past experiences she had been loath to let any other children around her. She'd been nervous just being around big crowds of people.

Coming to Genosha had changed all of that. At first she had hated the island vehemently. It was somehow tied to the reason that she wasn't with her mother anymore. She wasn't sure why exactly that was, but she knew it was true. So she had resisted Kayla's entreaties to go out and see more of the island.

It had been Charles who had helped her see how foolish she was being. His skills combined with Kayla's had forced her to go out more. She had kept a stiff upper lip and explored her new school. She'd made great friends with Lorna, and she even had a few friends from school. When her mother had come to stay Genosha had been perfect.

"School gets in the way," Rahne said.

Lorna sighed.

"I want to go this year," she said, "I like my tutor, but I want to go to school. It'll be fun. And then we can do stuff together."

Rahne nodded, feeling excited.

"You'll love it," she said, "Kayla, that's Ms. Silverfox in class, is really fun. She's a great teacher. We got to make these flower pots once that were really fun."

She smiled, remembering the day in class.

"And there are other great teachers too," she said, "You'll have lots of fun. And I can introduce you to Carly."

"Who's Carly?" asked Lorna.

"She's one of my friends," said Rahne, "She can't come to the palace, but I met her at the school. You'll like her."

"Oh," said Lorna, "Oh."

A downcast note entered into her voice. Rahne backpedaled.

"Well, a friend," she said, "But you're my **best **friend. There's a difference."

Lorna brightened considerably.

"Okay," she said, "It'll be fun. School is supposed to be fun, right?"

"Sometimes work gets in the way," Rahne said, "But mostly it's fun. And you'll get to use that really great playground again."

"It was great," Lorna said.

The door opened. A second later the blanket door to the fort opened and Susanna peered in. She held a bowl of popcorn in one hand and juice boxes in the other.

"I thought you might be done by now," she said.

"We're done," Lorna chirped.

Susanna smiled and passed them the snacks. Rahne eagerly took a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into her mouth. Lorna giggled and took two pieces.

"I just told Rahne that I'm going to be going to school this year," she said.

Susanna's smile dropped slightly. Rahne picked up on the gesture although she pretended to be absorbed in her popcorn.

"We'll see Lorna," her mother said, "Your father and I would certainly be delighted if it could be done."

Lorna smiled, her mother's speech not dampening her enthusiasm. Rahne finished her mouthful of popcorn, somewhat less excited than her friend. Lorna might have perfect faith that things would work out, but Rahne could tell that her mother had some doubts. In the past she'd found that the doubts of parents were more important than the blind acceptance of children.

As for the faith of children, that was another matter altogether.

"I'll leave you two to it then," Susanna said.

She dropped the blanket door and Rahne reached for some more popcorn.

"Now," Lorna said, picking out a book, "What do you want to read? _Wind in the Willows _or _The Wizard of Oz_?"

"_Wizard of Oz_," Rahne said, "I think I look like Toto."

She morphed her face into her wolf form and Lorna giggled.

"Okay," she said.

Lorna opened the book and turned the page. Although Rahne could read bigger words than her friend, Lorna had a better reading voice.

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies," she began, "with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife…"


	9. Chapter 9

August 20, 1959

"Erik, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," Susanna said.

Erik inclined his head to her, unfastening his cufflinks. She had chosen their own apartments to have the conversation about Lorna's education in. It wasn't a business proposition to be discussed in his office or in the throne room after all. It was two parents deciding whether or not their child would go to school.

She took a deep breath and marshaled her words.

"It's about Lorna," she said.

Erik laughed.

"Has she been stealing sweets from the kitchen again?" Erik asked, "She always gets into more trouble when Rahne's around."

He grinned.

"I'd say she's a bad influence, but I suppose she's just a child," he said, "I'd also say I'm relieved that Charles and Moira are coming back tomorrow for her, but Lorna always seems to have so much fun with her."

"She does, doesn't she? But no," Susanna said, smiling back, "It's not about that. Although I think there used to be more cookies in the kitchen than there are now."

Erik laughed again and sat down on one of the couches. Susanna sat down next to him. She felt comfortable now, letting her nervousness dissipate.

"It's about something important," Susanna said.

Her husband gave a small frown but said nothing.

"Lorna came to me a few weeks ago," she said, "There was so much going on with the wedding that I thought it should wait, but I think it's waited for long enough."

"Go on," he said, his voice wary.

Susanna smiled.

"She came and said that she wanted to go to school," she said, "The one that Rahne attends if it's possible. She's heard stories and thinks it would be fun."

Erik gave a heavy sigh.

"Did you tell her that it's impossible?"

Susanna shook her head. She was surprised by such a negative reaction so early on, she had always expected some form of resistance, but nonetheless she pressed on.

"I told her that I'd talk to you about it," Susanna said, "And the fall term begins on September ninth. I know we'd have to register by the first so I thought we could talk about it and decide on it tonight."

Erik smiled at her and cupped her face with his hand.

"Susanna," he said, "It was kind of you to say that to her. But you know that we can't allow that to happen."

"Why not?" asked Susanna.

His hand fell away and he shook his head.

"It's out of the question," he said.

"I know it's going to be an adjustment," she said, "But Lorna really wants to go to school. And she'll be perfectly equipped to go into her classes with all the tutoring she's received. She may even be ahead of her peers."

He sighed, sounding irritated.

"How many times do we have to go over this?" he asked, "It isn't a matter of whether or not her schooling is up to it. I know Lorna's clever."

Pride tinged his voice before it switched back to its authoritarian tone.

"It's about her safety," he said, "I can't allow her to be in a position where she's at the mercy of a changeable environment."

Susanna reached out and took his hand. She had been prepared for this argument and had already decided how she would respond.

"I want Lorna to be safe just as much as you do," she said, "I worried about it constantly every day for years."

His face softened slightly and Susanna allowed a small smile to grace her face.

"Genosha is the first safe place we've been," she said, "probably ever. It's the first place where she can really be free."

She saw more of his tension melt away.

"But...she's rarely been outside of the palace," Susanna said, "We can't confine her. Her only friend her age is Rahne. She makes friends with her bodyguards Erik because she wants to be around other people. But she needs more children her age around her."

The tension returned to his face.

"Susanna, there are too many people there," he said.

"I don't think so," she said, trying to regain lost ground.

He shook his head.

"Do you know how many children attend that school?" he demanded.

"Eight hundred and ten," she said, "Of that eight hundred three hundred and sixty are under the age of fourteen. Of the remaining four hundred and fifty two hundred of those are in the Acolyte program."

Erik blinked at her, looking stunned. She was surprised that he thought she didn't know. She was one of the school's patrons, had been there with him during the school's grand opening. She'd even helped Charles design some of the living areas. Of course she knew how many children attended the school.

"That's the program where future X-men and Hellions are trained, isn't it?" asked Susanna, "And the school that Charles trusts to educate his daughter."

He snorted.

"Children wouldn't be enough to protect her if something happens," he said, "And Rahne isn't as high-profile a target as Lorna."

The suggestion that something would happen seemed so ludicrous that laughter bubbled up in her throat. She knew by now that Erik didn't take well to being laughed at though, so she took great pains to stifle it. Instead she replaced it with a gentle smile and a slight squeeze of his hand. He turned and looked at her, his face still hard.

"What could possibly happen?" Susanna asked.

His eyes flashed and she knew immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say.

"What could happen?" he said, "What couldn't happen is more like it. Here, in the palace, I'm surrounded by people who fought next to me during the Revolution. They're people I trust, who would die before they let something happen to Lorna."

Erik gestured wildly to their window.

"Out there it's different," he said, "There are mutants that work for the MRD now. Stryker and Craig are still at large. I can't afford to parade Lorna around, taunting them and giving them something else to take out their hate on."

"But they're not here," Susanna said, bringing her hand around to clasp his other one, "They're not on Genosha. It's safe here!"

He shook his hands out of her grasp. She pulled back, hurt by the gesture. He didn't seem to notice.

"They'll come," he said, his voice dark, "They may be here already."

Erik turned around and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Susanna," he said, "I'm trying to keep you and Lorna safe."

He leaned forward and kissed her once on the forehead and then again, just an inch or so from her lips. Erik pulled her so that she was against his chest and let his lips rest on her ear. Susanna stilled, unsure of where he was going. He sighed.

"I finally got you both back," he said, "I'm not going to lose either of you again. Not when I can avoid it."

Susanna allowed herself to relax.

"It's safe," she murmured.

She could feel him shake his head.

"Not everything is as safe as I would have you believe," he said, "I want Genosha to be perfect for you, for Lorna. But it's hard. We're facing many threats and I don't want either of you to be entangled with that."

He pulled her closer.

"I want you two to see the dream that motivated us to fight," Erik said, "Not the war that we had to fight for it."

"Erik," Susanna said, "I know that…I know that compared to you and to others I may seem weak but I'm not-"

"I know you're not," he said, his voice low and soothing, "I know you're not. You kept yourself and Lorna safe for so long. I admire that you were able to do that against all of the odds. And you never gave up on me."

His breath shuddered.

"You have no idea what that means to me, that you kept believing in me when others would have given up," he said, "And now, I'm asking you to put your faith in me again. This time I can give you assurances that I'll follow through. I'm happy to be able to offer you that this time, even if I never was before."

She felt like her argument was slipping away from her. Susanna sat up, trying to rally. His look was so tender that she wanted to believe him, but she had a reason for bringing up the subject in the first place. In her mind she lined up her arguments again, bolstered by the image of Lorna's hopeful face when she asked to go to school.

"I'm not asking for much," said Susanna, "Lorna just wants to be with other children. It's really not that-"

He pressed a finger to her lips and kissed her forehead.

"Susanna, I want to make sure that nothing happens to our daughter," he said, "I'm putting laws through that will make Genosha safer than ever once they're passed. It'll be safe for Lorna. Don't you want that too?"

"Of course Erik," she said, "Of course I want that."

"Good," he said, kissing her lips.

He pulled away and then took her hands.

"Then I just need you to do one thing for me," he said.

"What?" asked Susanna.

He smiled again, but the expression seemed strange to Susanna.

"Don't mention this again."

She blinked at him, her eyes wide. Erik leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Still smiling he let go of her hands. Then, nodding once, he walked out of the room, his feet clicking on the polished floor. The door clicked behind him, not slammed, just closed as if it didn't make a difference.

Susanna stared after him, her mouth opening slightly. As soon as the door shut the whole way the reality of what had happened sunk in. She took a shuddering breath. He hadn't listened to her. He had pretended to, certainly, but he had made a decision that he refused to let her dissuade him from.

Feeling numb she got up and walked over to her vanity. Susanna stared into the mirror, removing her jewelry piece by piece. She let her hair down from its up-do and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't sure what it was that she was looking for. All she knew was that something had changed, a subtle shift inside herself.

She didn't fully understand what had just happened between her and her husband. Somehow a conversationabout their daughter's education had gotten away from her. All the same she could tell that something was different now. This discussion was being filed away in her head, the same way most other things were filed away when she knew they were important but couldn't fully grasp them.

Susanna had never felt that she was a particularly clever woman. She'd had lucky breaks when she was running with Lorna, and there had been times when she'd found hidden reserves of bravery. It was Erik who was the smart one though, her husband who had gotten them away from the MRD in the first place.

So she could understand how he might grasp an issue better than she could. He was smarter than her and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. However, there had always been equality between them. They would discuss how to run a household, which bills they would pay with their dwindling funds and which could wait, things like that. Both of them would talk the situation out and come to a consensus.

What had just happened had not been a consensus. She doubted it had even been a discussion. Susanna hadn't really gotten a say in the end. Instead she'd been pushed into inadvertently agreeing to not bring up the subject again. She could, but she doubted that it would be effective or that their talk would last any longer than their previous one.

Slowly she brought up her hand and touched her face. Something had changed, and she wasn't sure what. There had never been any real disagreements when they had come to Genosha. She had been so happy that their family was together again, and he'd been the same way. They had tentatively discussed Lorna's entry into school, but Lorna hadn't had an opinion then so Erik had won.

Now that Lorna did want to go to school Susanna thought that things would be different. She'd thought that perhaps he could be brought around. She'd thought that he would at least listen. Instead she'd been wrong on both accounts. The future stretched out before her and for the first time in over a year Susanna felt a flicker of apprehension.

She shook her head and walked away from the mirror. This was something she would figure out later. At the moment she had to go to Lorna and tell her that no, she wouldn't be able to go to school with her friend that year. Susanna braced herself for her daughter's tears of disappointment before she left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

August 30, 1959

Charles walked back into his house, letting his bags drop in the entryway. He'd get them in the morning. Behind him Rahne and Moira walked in. On the way up Rahne had chattered excitedly about all the things she had done at the palace. It seemed that her and Lorna got up to quite the shenanigans.

Now that they were at the house she had fallen asleep. He'd offered to carry her in, but Moira had opted to carry her instead of the bags. She had probably avoided the heavier load that way. Either way they made a cute pair. He smiled indulgently at her before Moira took them upstairs to get ready for bed. They had gotten back late and it was getting dark outside.

He stretched, feeling tired. They would probably all go to bed early that night. They were all exhausted. The next day things would go back to normal. After that he thought he might take a day or two off. Summer was drawing to a close and it might be nice to do something as a family. He'd have to contact Raven from where she was staying with Clarice, but they could find a time that would work.

The phone rang in the foyer. Charles sighed and walked up to it. He picked it up and cradled it in his neck.

"Xavier Residence."

"Oh," said Christopher, sounding surprised.

"What?" asked Charles.

"I'm sorry, I was calling for Moira and…you know," Christopher said.

Charles chuckled to himself.

"I quite understand."

"Thanks," Christopher said, "But…on second thought it's probably good that you're here too. Kill two birds with one stone and all that."

His brow furrowed and he sighed inwardly. He'd been looking forward to getting to bed early. It appeared that duty called though.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The Hellions got a tip from one of our sources that the Russian facility might be being emptied soon," Christopher said, "It would be too chaotic to strike after they're moved, so we want the go-ahead to go after it with one of our strike teams."

"Do you trust this source?" asked Charles.

"It's one of our best," said Christopher, "They might never have set foot in Genosha, but it they're already heroes."

Charles nodded. He'd heard of their Russian informants, a young mutant that Azazel had met on one of his reconnaissance trips. They'd been assisting their inquiries into the MRD facility in Russia ever since. Communist doctrine against any non-communist country only went so deep when someone was trying to kill you.

"Alright then," said Charles, "And I assume you've assembled the troops?"

"Exactly," Christopher said, "Captain Wagner has already volunteered to lead the Hellions in and we've told our best people to cancel their weekend plans. All we need now is permission from Moira and from either your or Magnus. Seeing as you're already there though…"

He rubbed his temples.

"I understand," Charles said, "Can you fax me the forms? I'll have them back as soon as possible."

"I'm sending them over now."

"Thank you," Charles said, "I'll call you back when I've read and signed them."

"'Kay then."

Charles put the phone back in his cradle. Moira leaned over the side of the staircase and looked down at him.

"I'm guessing you're going to be coming to bed late tonight?" she called.

"So will you," Charles said, "They're your Hellions."

"Oh," Moira sighed.

She walked down the staircase, meeting him at the bottom.

"Well, no use putting this off," she said, yawning, "They want to go after the facility in Russia, right?"

"Right, as usual," Charles said, walking into their joint home office, "Christopher believes that the MRD are going to be moving the inmates soon. And, of course, he wants to strike before that happens."

"Christopher never takes chances," Moira said, "Did he get Azazel to lead the charge? We've discussed it quite a bit."

"He has."

"Then it seems like all we need to do is sign," Moira said.

Charles nodded and walked over to the fax machine where the pages lay on the tray. The pages were still warm when he gathered them up. Moira walked next to him and read over his shoulder. They were the usual formalities before every mission, nothing particularly new about it. Still, it was a foolish person indeed who signed before reading.

When they were done they laid the forms onto the table and got to signing. Twenty minutes later the forms were completed. Charles massaged his aching hand and looked ruefully at the papers. Moira rearranged them in the correct order and sent them through the fax machine. She smiled and laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Our first joint assignment as a married couple," she said.

He smiled back at her.

"Let's celebrate by getting some sleep," Charles said.

"Sounds great."

* * *

"The hell?" demanded Clarice, clenching her phone in her hand.

Raven looked over from where she was sitting on the sofa and winced.

"No, don't give me that!" Clarice said, "That is not-no, you don't get to say that at a time like this!"

There was another pause. Raven thought she heard a tentative 'Can I see you when I get back?' She already knew what Clarice was going to say.

"Don't count on it," snapped Clarice before slamming the phone down.

Raven pulled her legs up to her chest. It had not been a good night for her friend. The day had started off well enough for the both of them. It had even seemed like it was going to be the perfect culmination of Raven's visit. She'd been glad that she'd opted to stay with Clarice instead of all alone in her house.

They had started out by catching breakfast at a restaurant and then going shopping. Clarice's six month anniversary with Calvin was in two days and Clarice had bought a new dress for the occasion. Raven had been very admiring of the garment, even if it had been something that she hadn't made. With her peppermint-pink skin Clarice looked particularly fine in greens and gold.

They'd spent some more time talking about the usual things, catching a movie at one of the theaters in the capitol. Raven had begun wondering if she could move-in with Clarice once she turned eighteen. They were both good friends and, if things worked out, Clarice wouldn't be out of law school for quite some time. Even if Charles' house was big enough to stay in he was married with children now. They couldn't all live under one roof forever.

Things had gone downhill quickly. First Azazel had appeared in the living room, nearly making Raven jump out of her skin, and announced that he was going to be leaving for a while. Clarice and he were neighbors, so he asked her to watch a few things for him, as well as drop in on the Szardos family and make sure that they were fine.

Clarice had gotten into an argument with him almost immediately. Raven had shrunk back in her seat, embarrassed to be part of such a private discussion. She was the girl who had organized big events and who currently volunteered at the hospital. She'd seen amputated limbs. Social situations always changed things for her though.

Her friend had been angry for several reasons. Azazel was family and she disliked when he left without an explanation. The revolution was over and he was a cabinet member. He couldn't just go traipezing off when he felt like it. They lived stationary lives so it was an oddity when he had to go somewhere on such short notice.

The second reason was a little more personal. Stefan Szardos was having his eighth birthday soon. What was she supposed to tell him when his 'uncle Azazel' wasn't there when he'd said he would be? That had seemed to give the red mutant pause, and he'd given Clarice a pained expression. In the end he had just sighed and said that he had to go. He'd apologize to Stefan if he didn't make it back in time.

Every now and then she'd seen Azazel look her way. More than once he'd tried to call Clarice's attention to the fact that they weren't alone. He'd even tried to give Raven ways to get out of the room. She was grateful for his attempts to give her an out, but they hadn't worked. Clarice had just continued to plow through, her green eyes blazing.

They had continued arguing for another ten minutes. Finally Azazel had just shrugged and teleported off. Raven had to admire how he kept his cool around Clarice, who could be frightening when angry, and his rather timely exit. It hadn't done anything to help her friend's anger though.

Clarice had stewed over the incident for hours afterwards, banging pots and plates down harder than she'd needed to. However, she'd begun to calm down by the time the phone rang. Raven had assumed that it had been Azazel with an apology, or at least hoped it was. She didn't see too much for Azazel to apologize for, but it wasn't her father figure who was leaving her to take care of his life while he went off.

Instead it had been Calvin. She'd seen her friend's face light up. The argument with Azazel was evidently forgotten and she was lost in her own reverie. Raven wondered what it was like to be in love like Clarice and Calvin or Charles and Moira. It certainly seemed like it made life more worthwhile.

Two minutes later Clarice's dark expression had come back in full force. Calvin had been put in for a leadership training exercise was going to miss their anniversary. Raven had only caught this from her friend's occasional outbursts. From what she heard on her end of the phone Calvin was at least trying to be reconciliatory.

Clarice was having none of it. He had no idea how bad his timing was. Raven winced as she heard her friend's biting words. Finally she slammed the phone down, her eyes ablaze. She scanned the room, her hands trembling from anger. Raven shrank back just about the time that her friend saw her.

She deflated almost immediately.

"I'm…I'm really sorry," Clarice mumbled, "You shouldn't have had to hear any of that…I'm sorry."

"It…it's okay," Raven lied.

Clarice gave her a disbelieving look before falling onto the sofa.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Apology accepted," Raven said, wondering if the new phrase would serve better than her previous one.

Clarice nodded and Raven felt relieved.

"This should be over," she said, "This whole…"

She waved her hand vaguely around.

"…mess should be over," Clarice said, "The revolution is over, we've got our homeland, we've got global recognition, and we've got peace. Any mutant can walk the streets of Genosha and feel safe. The fighting should be over."

She shook her head.

"I mean," Clarice said, "I can trade in my crystals for books. And I was..."

She trailed off and shook her head. Raven still didn't know what Clarice had done during the revolution. She could only guess that it had been similar to Azazel's profession. They were both been teleporters after all.

"I understand why we have to keep our forces up…" Clarice muttered, "It's just…why does no one else seem to want to do that? Take the peaceful way out?"

There was a slight pause. Raven reflected to her own attitude a few months ago. She would have thought that Clarice was crazy back then. She didn't even entirely understand what she was saying now. She wondered if there was a way for her to understand without going through what Clarice had gone through. However, she could tell that Clarice expected her to say something.

"Maybe they feel like they can't," Raven ventured, "It was only a couple months ago that Moira had to be rescued from the MRD."

Clarice sighed.

"I just want things to stop being so complicated," said Clarice.

She snorted.

"And I want Calvin to give me a better excuse than 'he can't make it'," she said.

Raven put her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Are you breaking up with him?"

Clarice sighed again.

"Probably not," she said.

Raven blinked. Clarice caught her expression and laughed. It wasn't a particularly mirthful sound, but it was something.

"You've got a lot to learn about love," Clarice said, "He'll try to apologize when he gets back and I know I'll fall for it."

She smiled.

"I'm a bit of a sap like that."

Raven nodded, although she had no idea what Clarice meant. Looking brisk Clarice got to her feet and walked to the kitchen.

"But for now, screw it. I'm depressed and watching _Casablanca _with ice cream sounds like a great idea," Clarice said, "Are you in?"

"Definitely," Raven said.


	11. Chapter 11

Calvin adjusted his pack. It sat uncomfortably on his shoulders, weighing him down In it was everything that he was going to need to survive over the next few days. It seemed so little, but at the same time it managed to weigh a ton.

The pack wasn't his biggest problem though, not really. The biggest problem was back at Genosha, probably clearing out her dayplanner. Calvin mentally cursed himself for the millionth time since he'd made his phone call to Clarice. He wasn't in a position to tell her where he was really going, but he could have come up with a better excuse.

If he'd been able to articulate why he was going then she would have understood. Clarice was an X-man, even if she was trading her combat skills for a law degree. Instead he had botched the situation and made it sound like he was trying to advance his career. After that it had been too late to recover.

Looking back he thought that maybe there was a phrase he could use to describe going on a secret mission without actually saying it. If he'd managed to swallow his pride and ask Azazel then he might have known. Calvin had never really liked him, and he'd never really liked his reasons for never liking him. It was wrong to be jealous of him; Clarice saw him as a father. However, he was only two years older than her and Calvin was only human. He was glad that he'd never articulated his feelings on the subject to Clarice.

There had been other factors of course. Calvin was willing to lose some dignity, especially when it came to keeping his relationship with Clarice stable. However, Azazel had been in a foul mood when he'd come to the base to give them their marching orders. Calvin had been nominated to be his second-in-command for the mission so he hadn't had much time to get his personal affairs in order.

His hasty call to Clarice had been poorly handled though. He had thought only in terms of what he needed to do at the moment, give her the bare amount of information. Well, he'd done that, and he'd managed to piss her off. When he got back he was going to have to try and fix it, whenever that was.

Sighing he looked ahead of him. The rest of the Hellions had been instructed to wait at the drop zone. Unlike Calvin Azazel hadn't had to carry a large pack. His feet danced lightly on the ground, never even breaking a twig. Calvin felt like a lumbering football player with more brawn than brain next to him. It made him grit his teeth in anger.

"You are leaving trail mile wide."

Calvin looked up at Azazel and scowled.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said, "It's not like it's something I can help when I'm carrying my own body weight in supplies."

Azazel snorted but said nothing. He gestured around him at the clearing before leaning against a tree.

"We meet contacts here," he said, "You are to lead Hellions now, you should know."

Calvin crossed his arms and looked around him.

"So, what am I looking for exactly?" he asked.

"They will give sign," said Azazel, "And I will show how to respond. It is sign unique to them."

He nodded. That made sense.

"Do they speak English?" asked Calvin.

"Yes, well-educated despite circumstances," Azazel said, "Communication may not be issue though; may give in to sense and come to Genosha this time."

The way Azazel spoke the words showed that he didn't believe them, but hoped they were true. Calvin cocked his head.

"How much danger is he putting himself in by giving us information?" he asked, his voice low.

"Much," Azazel said, "He is protected to degree for work brother did for motherland. MRD are closer to Russian government than any. Many Sapien League members are party members too."

Calvin shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the new knowledge. He'd been fortunate enough to escape the clutches of the MRD. His mutation was low key and he could lose himself in the States. Genosha had seemed like a paradise and he'd come there after they'd been announced to the UN.

Clarice had whispered her experiences to him, snatches of the pain she had gone through. The woman he loved was a survivor; there was no doubt about that. He admired her for her strength and the ability to fight back during the revolution. She had been young then and was still quite young. She'd risen above it all, a phoenix in her own right.

It was all the more reason that he didn't want to lose her.

"Mimic?" asked Azazel.

He looked up, realizing that he was staring off into space.

"Sorry sir," he said.

Azazel raised an eyebrow.

"Sir? We are at sir?" asked Azazel, "I am nyet so much older than you."

"I know."

"Hmph," Azazel said, "And you are dating girl I consider daughter. So I think sir may be gotten rid of, da?"

Calvin shook his head.

"At least one of those might not be true anymore," he muttered.

Azazel's eyes narrowed.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"I went on this trip," Calvin snapped.

His superior grimaced and sighed.

"Da, she is angry at me too for this," he said, scratching the back of his neck, "Could nyet explain why had to leave."

"So you didn't tell her either, huh?" asked Calvin.

Azazel shook his head.

"Could nyet," he said, "This is security, hush-hush, fast as can mission. Nyet something that can be discussed."

His eyes met Calvin's.

"It may nyet feel like it, but you did right thing," Azazel said, "We can nyet tell what we do. Maybe hint about it when get back. She would understand then."

He cocked his head.

"Or just buy lots of flowers."

Calvin managed a muffled chuckle. He was having a harder time remembering why he didn't like the man in front of him.

"Both sound like pretty good ideas," he said, "She likes lilies. That might work. Lilies and chocolate and some sort of jewelry. And an apology."

Azazel frowned.

"That is lot for leaving on short notice," he said.

"Um, our six month anniversary is tomorrow," Calvin said.

Azazel blinked at him.

"Forget what I say," he said, "You should have asked to be transferred."

He opened his mouth to respond when he saw a slight glittering to his left. It looked like the reflection of light but it was very peculiar, almost like light reflecting off of some sort of metal. Azazel's eyes were drawn to it and he took out his sword, reflecting the light back. Several seconds passed and the glittering ceased. After that Calvin heard rustling in the underbrush.

A teenager stepped into the clearing. Calvin figured he couldn't have been more than eighteen. His muscles belied his age though and he had a heavyset jaw. One of his hands put a small flashlight back into his pocket before he looked up. Dark eyes glanced over at Calvin before he turned his attention to Azazel. Azazel gave him a quick nod of his head and the teen stepped further into the clearing.

Calvin looked to Azazel. He knew the boy, he was the one to make the introductions. Even if they were just going to be using codenames, it still had to be him.

"Colossus," said Azazel, "Mimic. He is soon-to-be leader of Hellions."

Colossus nodded and gave him another quick glance.

"Mutation?" he asked.

"You first," Calvin said.

Colossus smirked. He closed his eyes and metal blossomed over his skin, enveloping him. Calvin nodded before shifting his powers within him. His mutation was made for flexibility, and he appreciated it. He was a copycat, a cheat in a way, a mutant who could manufacture other mutant's powers in himself. His codename of 'Mimic' was an apt descriptor. It generally didn't take more than just a display of power for him to take to it.

However, there were limits to his powers. For one he could only ever keep five different powers in him at once. He'd also be able to use each power at around half the potency of the original wielders. He had telepathy, telekinesis, energy blasts, and others. He'd even taken some of Logan's healing factor, although he didn't think the feral mutant would be happy if he ever found out.

He let his own skin shift to metal before returning it to its normal state. Colossus' eyes grew big and, despite himself, he seemed faintly impressed.

"Enough showing off," said Azazel, "Now, anything new?"

"They have increased orders on commune," Colossus said, "New trucks coming in and out at all times. Trampling everything."

His voice took on a new level of disgust.

"They have increased work hours," he said.

Azazel nodded.

"And to surround facility?"

Colossus frowned in thought.

"How many men?"

"Twenty," said Calvin.

Colossus scoffed.

"There are more than twenty there," he said.

"I know," Calvin said, "But we're all highly trained mutants. We all participated in freeing one facility in Greece. We know what we're doing."

Colossus gave him a fixed look. It was a suspicious, almost angry one. Calvin found himself wondering if Clarice had been like this at his age. What was more likely was that Emma had been like Colossus at one point. He'd met Clarice's close friend on a few occasions, the girl who had clawed her way up to sanity.

After what she'd been through, he really couldn't blame her.

"Trust us," Calvin said.

"I have nyet choice," Colossus said.

He looked over at Azazel.

"They have taken my sister," he said.

Both Calvin and Azazel exchanged glances.

"I did nyet think she was mutant," said Colossus, "But she was doing small things. Two days ago I come back from fields one day and she is gone."

He gave them both a harsh look.

"I am coming with you on mission," he said, "And we will find my sister. Then we will go to Genosha with you."

His words weren't a request, but Calvin couldn't find it in himself to take offense. The boy had just had his sister kidnapped after all.

"I am sorry that your coming to us is happening under such circumstances," Azazel said, his voice quiet.

Colossus shook his head.

"I should have taken you up on first offer," he said, "But my sister is young. I want her to be freed soon. I do nyet know what happens in there."

"I do," Azazel said, "And you are right to want her out."

Colossus gave him a despairing look before swallowing and assuming a stoic mask. It was more control than Calvin would have been able to muster.

"Thank you," he said.

With another nod he looked over at Calvin.

"So you say twenty will do?" he asked.

Calvin gave him a fixed look.

"How old is your sister?" he asked.

Colossus opened his mouth, irritation on his face, but Calvin cut him off.

"Believe it or not, that does have some bearing on the answer," Calvin said, "How old is your sister?"

The teen swallowed.

"Eight."

Calvin nodded.

"They're taking in children that young?" he asked.

Colossus' silence was answer enough.

"Then twenty Hellions will burn the damn place to the ground," he said.

For the first time since he met him Colossus looked relieved. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Azazel smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Surrounding the facility wasn't easy. Azazel noted the close cooperation of the Russian army and the MRD. The two had always been close, much closer than any country they'd come across. He gnashed his teeth before smothering his hate. He'd been put there to do a job, not to get further disgusted with the ways of humans.

He looked to his left. Colossus was staring down at the camp with open hate. Azazel knew that the boy's real name was Piotr Rasputin. Both of his parents had died years before while the family had lived in Moscow. His brother Mikhail had been a cosmonaut before dying in a tragic accident. The thanks his siblings got after his demise was that they had to work on a commune, allowed to stay together only because of thier brother's sacrifice. Mother Russia's charity was cold indeed.

He knew that Piotr's little sister was the only family he had left in the world. Azazel had been the first mutant that Piotr had met. His sister hadn't started to manifest yet and it made life difficult for Piotr. He'd manifested his own power while saving her from a runaway tractor. No one had been around then, and he'd taken care that no one had found out. Like most mutants, he'd known that he could get in trouble for his gifts.

Unlike Piotr though, Illyana must not have been careful enough to avoid notice. Or perhaps they had suspected from the start. Azazel knew enough from Emma and Clarice's stories that even the least little thing out of place made them suspect. His own ability had made quick getaways possible, but even that hadn't saved him.

In some ways he was relieved that Illyana had been taken. Azazel was ashamed he felt that way, but he tried to look at it logically. They were there to rescue her after all and two days wasn't long enough for anything to happen to her. Besides, it was providing the impetus to force Piotr to come to Genosha.

As useful as Piotr had been as a spy Azazel hated the boy's situation. Piotr was in constant danger as a spy, and he was so young. There really was nothing left for him in Russia, and he would do well in Genosha. Maybe he could even become a Hellion. From the way he'd been talking with Calvin Azazel suspected that he wanted to give it a shot. The other two Hellions they were with were being questioned as well. Azazel approved. Piotr was meant for more than working as a farmhand.

Military life was demanding, but it was pointless to try to deny yourself when you were built for combat. Clarice was trying to move away from a militant life. Azazel shook his head at the presumption. She was a born fighter. When push came to shove she would punch someone and break their nose if it came to it. Perhaps it was why she had decided to go into law. It would just be fighting with words instead of fists.

Despite what Clarice might have thought, a military career wasn't a bad choice, especially not in Genosha. They knew that they needed to be protected and to be on high alert. Mutations or no they were a small country. Many of their inhabitants had been dragged from their homes and imprisoned in the past. It made one cautious.

Pitor would do well as a Hellion or an X-man. The Hellions would become a strike team after the MRD was destroyed, so it might be better if he became an X-man. He could stay home more then. His mutation lant itself to fighting, just like Azazel's had. Emma's hadn't been cooperative but she had found a way around it despite everything. Piotr would be taught to utilize his powers. It would also help him get the education that he'd been denied. The benefits were good and he'd need the money to take care of Illyana.

In most other countries Illyana would go into the foster system or an orphanage. Piotr was only eighteen and he knew that few eighteen-year-olds were granted custody. However, on Genosha things were different. Many siblings clung to each other after their experiences and separating them would be terrible. So they had lowered the age of guardianship a bit. Teenagers in Piotr's situation were given preference to another provider. They would be checked up on, but he knew that Piotr would do fine.

"So how do we go in?" asked Piotr.

"We've split into four teams," Calvin said, "and we're going to strike the gates simultaneously. That way the guards can't report in and our force will look bigger if there's security cameras."

He looked over at Piotr and jerked his head towards the door.

"You're going to take down the door," he said, "I think I few punches when you're metal should do it."

"Why can we nyet teleport inside?" he frowned.

Azazel shook his head.

"I can nyet teleport when I can nyet see where I am going," he said, "I could find self inside wall. Nyet fun."

Piotr grinned briefly before nodding. Calvin glanced down at his watch.

"We've got three minutes," he said, "Everyone know what we're doing?"

"Yes sir."

"Aye aye Captain Hook."

Calvin closed his eyes before looking over his shoulder.

"Really Morph?"

Morph grinned. Azazel smirked. The gray mutant had a penchant for running his mouth. In power he reminded Azazel vaguely of Xavier's younger sister. His ability to shapeshift had served tehm well. Where Raven was reserved he couldn't shut up for five minutes though. His fellow Hellion, Sunfire, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and grinned. She could stand him, God only knew how.

He wondered what their names really were, but it was need-to-know basis material. He only knew Calvin's name because Azazel wasn't really a Hellion and Calvin was his direct subordinate. He'd also met him a few times outside of work as Clarice's boyfriend. It would be ridiculous to pretend like he didn't know him.

All of the other Hellions knew the others only by their codenames. It was encouraged for them not to meet out of work, to not let anyone know who they were. The X-men were the public face of the Genoshan armed forces, and it was dangerous enough for people to know who they were. The public needed heroes though.

Real names would only be released after death. Azazel didn't relish the thought.

"I can't help it," Morph said, "I wasn't the one who told you to grow a goatee now was I? You look like a pirate now. What's your girlfriend saying about it?"

"Probably not much," Sunfire grinned, "Guys with facial hair are good kissers."

"Should I shift some then?" asked Morph.

"You still wouldn't have a chance with me," Sunfire said.

"Task on hand," Calvin snapped, "We only have two minutes now."

"Okay, okay," Morph said, "Can't blame a guy for having a little fun."

Calvin glared at him before inching forward. The others followed him and they looked at the guards in front of them. Azazel counted ten.

"You two on the left," Calvin said, gesturing to Sunfire and Morph, "I'll be on the right with Azazel."

"And me?" asked Piotr.

"Turn metal and try to barrel through the door," Calvin said, "The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out."

Piotr nodded. Calvin looked down at his watch.

"Get ready to mobilize in three…two…one…now!"

In a burst of fire Sunfire moved forward. Her blaze consumed two soldiers in seconds, leaving their charred remains behind. Morph's hands shifted into blocks, punching two of them into the ground. He kicked a third, shoving him into the air where Sunfire let a fireball loose. Seconds later his charred remains crashed to the floor.

At the same time Azazel had teleported to the right. His tail wrapped around the throat of one of the soldiers, the spade slicing across it neatly. He teleported as one of the soldiers began firing at him. He was taken care of when Calvin telekinetically threw him into the air, his spine crunching up against the wall.

Azazel thrust his sword into the chest of another soldier, blood spurting on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Calvin maneuver another man's gun so it fired into another soldier before turning on its owner. He was a fine soldier; there was no doubt about it. It said something about Clarice that she would go for someone like him while pushing herself away from a militant life.

Behind him he heard a loud crash. Piotr had shoved the door open, throwing it on some soldiers who were milling about in the hall. Another tried to fire at him, the bullets bouncing off his metal skin. The crunch when Piotr punched him told Azazel that if the soldier wasn't dead afterwards then he'd wish he was.

The others hurried behind him. They knew that they were supposed to free this side before meeting in the middle. Once the base was cleared they'd call for the choppers and evacuate all of the inmates. Azazel knew that there was a bomb with the facility's name on it in the choppers to alleviate any inconvenient questions.

Sliding into formation they ran down the hall. Piotr took up the back, mostly because he was the most unfamiliar with the situation. He kept looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister. Azazel knew that, geographically, she wouldn't be kept in this part of the facility. They liked to keep children away from adults so they couldn't get any comfort or moral support. They would be more likely to cooperate that way.

Calvin mimicked Piotr's power and the two of them began ripping bars off cells. Morph ushered the free mutants into groups so they could be taken to the center. Azazel stood guard with Sunfire, killing any soldiers who happened their way. The Hellions knew how to take apart a facility by that point, and to do it with incredible efficiency. If the others were doing as well as they were, then they should have the place freed in a matter of minutes.

They pressed on into the center room. Piotr brought up the back again with the Hellions and Azazel in front. It was a good thing they did since they were the first team to make it to the center. The area hadn't been cleared and there was still a high concentration of soldiers. They ordered the former prisoners to stay back along with Piotr before diving in.

Azazel teleported into the midst of the soldiers, his swords and tail flying. His tail was as good as a third arm, and a third sword because of the sharpness of the spade. He teleported in the face of bullets, making sure to avoid Sunfire's flames or the soldiers that Morph and Calvin were throwing around.

There was more to take care of in that room than at the gate, so it took longer. Morph took a bullet to the soldier, but his malleable skin reformed itself after he plucked it out. It served to make him mad though, and the fight was over fairly soon. By the time the second group arrived the area had been cleared.

When the third group arrived Piotr began pushing Hellions out of the way. Sasquatch, another Hellion, was carrying a small blonde girl. Piotr cried out and the blonde girl reached out to him. Sasquatch let her go and she ran into Piotr's arms. Azazel grinned at the sight and leaned back against one of the walls. He'd never known that working with the Hellions could be so satisfying. It made him miss the old days of the revolution, but only a little. There had been such uncertainty then after all.

Calvin walked up beside him, putting a walkie-talkie back into his pocket. Azazel gave him a short nod in recognition.

"The choppers will be here in a minute," he said.

"Good," Azazel replied.a

Calvin smiled before looking at the counter next to Azazel. He frowned and began looking through the papers that had been left there. A few were splattered with blood.

"Um, Azazel?" he said.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not so good at reading Russian," Calvin said, "I was sick for a couple of the classes. But…does this say what I think it does?"

Azazel frowned and walked over. Calvin stepped aside as he began to skim through the file. His eyes narrowed and he looked back up at Calvin.

"Unfortunately da, it does," he said.

Calvin raised his eyebrows before picking up the file.

"Then we're going to have to bring it back," he said, shaking his head and flipping through the file.

Azazel frowned.

"How did you know of this?" asked Azazel, "We had meeting in palace, so I do. But you?"

"They wanted us to see how sick these people are," shrugged Calvin, "As if I needed reminding. But I read about this in training."

He shook his head.

"I didn't think they were going to try it anymore though," he said, "I thought most of the research got taken in back up in Canada."

"Da, well, apparently not," he said.

Calvin let out a long sigh.

"Apparently," he said, "Do they just have a ton of adamanitum lying around here somewhere that they need to get rid of?"

They both gave a dry chuckle. Azazel knew how ridiculous that statement was. Next to vibranium adamantium was the world's scarcest material.

"Nyet," Azazel said, "But does nyet stop from trying. Leaving this information means that they were giving out reports or instructions. Maybe wanted to try soon. Something like that."

Calvin nodded thoughtfully.

"Of course, they wouldn't be able to do it here though. I read about their process and there's no nearby water source for the cooling," he said, his voice low, "And the European base is far away from a water source. So, you know what this means right?"

Azazel's heart sank.

"Da," Azazel said, "It means there are more facilities than we thought."


	13. Chapter 13

September 16, 1959

"So they're continuing their adamantium program?" asked Erik, rubbing his temples.

"It appears so," Moira said, opening her folder and placing the documents Calvin had brought back on the table, "And, as Rankin and Azazel pointed out in their report, the remaining facility does not have the necessary requirements to continue adamantium work."

Erik looked over at Charles who glanced back at him. The meetings between them and their intelligence agency had changed little over the years. There were generally few people. At most it would consist of Charles and Erik, an expert on a subject if they were needed, and then one or two X-men. Logan had been present at most meetings before he quit. Since then they'd bolstered their ranks with others such as Arthur Centino and Dominikos Petrakis, who were present at the moment.

The presence of the X-men at the meetings had always made sense. The intelligence had been run by the X-men in the beginning, first as spies during the revolution and then as peacekeepers and the public face of the military afterwards. As Genosha had expanded they had made the X-men into agents and appointed others to head their work.

Moira had been the logical choice. She certainly had the experience, and she had good reason to be dedicated to their cause. He had hesitated before appointing a human to such a prominent position, but it was Moira. She was the mother of a mutant and, at the time, soon to be the wife of another. She was as intertwined with them as a human could be. To question her loyalty to thier cause would open the gateways to questioning his own wife, which he would **not **allow.

After Moira had married Charles the meetings hadn't really changed. The policy was for people to leave their personal lives at the door. That way they could concentrate on the task at hand. It had been one of the reasons that Emma had been such a security risk before she'd agreed to counseling.

He picked up one of the documents and examined it. A diagram of a test subject was drawn out. His stomach lurched and his eyes narrowed as he examined the metal insertion points. He wasn't a scientist in the strictest sense, he didn't have higher than a high school education, but he knew the level of cruelty this would involve.

Charles looked over the sheet and furrowed his brow. He gestured for Erik to pass the sheet over to him. He read it before making another gesture.

"Dr. McCoy?" asked Charles, "What do you think of this?"

A middle-aged man with dark brown hair and glasses stepped up. Erik sighed. Another human. Norton McCoy was Genosha's foremost scientist, an immigrant who had come to the island with his mutant son after its existence had been announced through the UN. He was intelligent and dedicated, but Erik had still expressed doubt at letting him in on such a meeting. From the look Dominikos was giving him Erik knew that he wasn't the only one.

Norton read over the diagram before shaking his head.

"I've been researching adamantium ever since you mentioned they were using it," he said, "This can't be done."

"They're trying," Moira said.

"Then they're idiots," Norton said, his voice blunt, "I understand why they want to do it. It would create someone with an unbreakable skeletal structure. Really, in its own way it's just a continuation of the Super Soldier Program from World War II."

Erik stiffened. He had his own feelings on the Super Soldier Program and had no wish for them to be compared to the MRD's adamantium project.

"But, it's impossible," said Norton, "I'm not sure that most people realize how toxic most metals are. They're fine outside of the body, but you can get so many different types of metal poisoning if they get into the blood. Not to mention tetanus or lockjaw."

He shook his head.

"Adamantium in particular is a bad idea," he said, "The chemical components make it highly poisonous. If you put this into someone you might as well have pumped arsenic, and a lot of it, straight into your heart. It would kill you within five minutes, and not nicely."

"How is any death nice?" asked Dominikos.

Norton sighed and shook his head.

"I'm just saying that it wouldn't be pretty," he said.

"What if the person they were doing this on was a mutant who had a healing factor?" asked Arthur.

Norton paused before shaking his head again.

"It would have to be a very strong healing factor," said Norton, "Very strong indeed."

"Strong like Logan or Victor's?" asked Charles.

Erik turned and looked at his friend. Charles looked slightly worried and Erik glanced back at Norton. The idea didn't sit well with him.

"I…we've never really found the limits on Howlett or Creed's healing factors," Norton said after a pause, "But…the body would have to be repairing itself every single second of every single day. It's not like getting a hole punched in your chest; it's like having your bones ripping themselves inside out every single second."

Norton pushed up his glasses.

"The healing factor would have to compensate for the blood poisoning immediately. If it's even a second off the subject would die," he said, "Every part of the body would be affected. That is, if the subject survives the procedure, which I find highly unlikely."

"But not impossible," Erik said.

Again Norton paused.

"There's always a possibility," he conceded.

Silence stretched over the room. Erik cleared his throat.

"Thank you Dr. McCoy," he said, "You've given us a lot to think about."

Norton recognized his dismissal and walked out the room. As soon as the door was closed Erik turned to the others.

"I want this stamped out and shut down," he said, "Moira, I want you to dedicate your resources to finding these other bases. All of them."

"But be subtle," Charles said, looking over at Erik, "We don't want them to know how much we know."

Erik nodded.

"Have the Hellions destroy the European base as quickly as possible," he said, "preferably within the month. And then we'll have a long stretch of inactivity. Let's give them a false sense of security."

Moira nodded and gathered up the documents. Erik put a hand on the documents, stopping her from taking them at the last moment.

"I want copies of these."

She nodded again before he removed his hand and allowed her to take them.

"Where are the Hellions now?" he asked.

Moira shrugged.

"They're on shore leave," she said.

* * *

"I am sorry I am late for birthday," Azazel said.

Stefan turned around from his seat on the couch. He flung himself out of it and hugged Azazel around the waist. Azazel grinned and got to his knees, hugging him back. From the back of the apartment he saw Margali walk into the room, stirring something in a bowl. She nearly dropped it when she saw Azazel.

Azazel grinned and lifted Stefan into the air. He was becoming too big to do so, but he could still manage it. Azazel walked over to Margali, who had just regained her balance. She glared at him, taking the wooden spoon out of her bowl and waving it in his face. He remembered fondly how she would do that when he was younger.

"You should not surprise us like that," she said, gesturing to the bowl, "This is dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Stefan said.

Azazel laughed and even Margali smiled.

"Where is Sabu?" he asked.

"Oh, still at work," Margali said, "You should wait a while. He'll be back in an hour or two. Before dinner is ready in any case."

"Good," Azazel said, "I have something I mean to ask."

Margali frowned.

"What?"

"Well," Azazel said, rolling the words around before he said them, "There are two siblings come with us from Russia. Piotr, he is eighteen, will be going into military program. Younger sister, Illyana, will go to the school. But there is a time-"

"You want us to babysit?" asked Margali.

Her voice was turned with a lilt of amusement. Azazel knew that she saw him as a member of their family, almost like a son despite a gap of only ten years. He shrugged and shifted Stefan before answering.

"If would nyet be too much trouble."

"I'd like it!" Stefan piped up.

"I will talk with Sabu," Margali said, "But I think it will work."

He grinned at her as she set the bowl down and rested her hands on her hips.

"Have you talked to Clarice yet?" she asked.

Azazel winced and shook his head.

"She was very angry when you left you know," Margali said.

"I know, but she was also angry at boyfriend," said Azazel, "I have decided he will go first. Then, I will talk to later."

"You want him to take the brunt of her anger," Margali said, her voice reproachful.

He shrugged and Stefan giggled.

"She said you were an idiot on my birthday," he said.

"Hah!" Azazel said, indignant, "Can idiot do this?"

He teleported to the ceiling where his tail curled around the hanging lamp. He hung by it, upside down, rocking them back and forth. Stefan shrieked happily.

"Both of you come down right now!" Margali demanded, "This is not the circus anymore! This is a house!"

Azazel teleported back down, setting Stefan on the ground. Stefan sighed in disappointment.

"Mama!" he whined.

"No," Margali said.

"Ah, he was just having fun," Azazel said, "And speaking of birthday, I might nyet have been here, but I did nyet forget."

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a wrapped parcel. Stefan reached for it, jumping from foot to foot. Azazel put it into his hands and Stefan tore the wrapping paper away. Inside was a small toy plane, painted in the colors of the Genoshan flag. They didn't really have an airforce on Genosha yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Awesome!" Stefan said.

"Stefan," Margali said, "What do we say when we get a gift?"

Stefan looked up at Azazel and smiled.

"Thank you uncle Azzy," he said.

Azazel smiled and ruffled his hair.

"You are very welcome."

* * *

Calvin looked across from him to Clarice. She sat, her arms folded across her chest and glaring at the floor. He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts. She was angry, angrier than he had seen her in a long time. He probably wouldn't have even been let in the door if Emma hadn't been there.

He'd met Clarice's friend on a few occasions. He didn't think that they had enough rapport built for her to stop Clarice from shutting the door in his face. A few quiet words later and Emma had left, patting Calvin on the shoulder. He'd gone in to find Clarice in her present position. Feeling like his heart was in his throat he'd sat down across from her, knowing that it would be pushing his luck to get too close.

"I got you lilies," he offered, "I know they're your favorite."

She didn't say anything, just kept staring at the floor. He put the lilies on the table, hoping that she'd at least look at them. When she didn't he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to say next. He'd never been in a situation even remotely resembling the one he was in at the moment.

"I'm sorry?" he tried.

There was a long pause. Just when he thought he would have to say something else that sounded equally uninspired Clarice said;

"What for?"

The words were so unexpected that they nearly made him jump.

"For missing our anniversary."

She looked up and he felt relieved that he'd answered so promptly. He was inexperienced in the matter, but he knew if he didn't speak quickly enough he'd get points off.

"Why'd you miss it?"

Her voice was softer. Calvin felt like he was getting somewhere.

"I…my job," he said, "It was really sudden."

She nodded and leaned back, uncrossing her arms. He felt hope rise in him.

"I don't like this," Clarice said, "I don't like the continued fighting and I don't like the fact that I run the risk of losing most of the people in my life."

"But you understand why I have to do it, right?" Calvin asked.

There was a slight pause before Clarice nodded her head.

"I understand," she said, "I did the same thing for the past few years after all."

Gaining courage he got up and walked over to her. He sat down next to her. Calvin took her hands in his, kissing the back of it.

"Well," he said, continuing to hold her hand, "I know I missed the dinner we were planning. But…how about I fix that? Do you want to do dinner in two hours? I have reservations at a nice place downtown."

Clarice smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Sounds great."


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **As most of you noticed, I accidentally posted chapter 9 instead of chapter 14. Sorry about the mix-up everyone!_

* * *

September 20, 1959

Susanna took a deep breath and looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye. They were in one of their private rooms. She kept her eyes riveted on her book, although she knew her hands were trembling. Once again she was preparing to talk to her husband about their daughter and the possibility of her going to school.

It was too late for the current year, she knew that. He'd asked, no, **demanded**, that she not talk about Lorna going to school that year. Susanna might not have been as clever as her husband, but was smart enough to figure out the loophole for that. She would talk about next year, or the year after that.

Unlike last time, things were going to be different. Susanna hadn't understood how things had stood with her husband. She supposed that she had been living in some sort of dream-like haze ever since coming to Genosha. It had brought her back to how they had been when they were nineteen, a young married couple with a small child.

Those might not have been the best of days when everything was said and done, but she still saw them through rose-tinted glasses. They'd had enough to get by. Their daughter was healthy and nothing had gone wrong with the delivery. The uncertain and sad past was behind them and somehow, through all her secret tears and worries, her husband had fallen in love with her. It was like the honeymoon that they had never had.

The period in which she had come to Genosha had been similar, had aroused the same feelings. This time, instead of an uncertain nine months, she'd experienced a gut-wrenchingly perilous three years. And then her husband had shown up again and claimed her and her daughter. This time there hadn't even been a hint of uncertainty in their future and she had embraced it without any doubts.

However, all good things must end. For her, her perfect year had ended the moment she realized that her husband refused to see things from her point of view. He'd taken her gentle words and arguments for their daughter's well-being and shaped them into something else. He'd been playing to a different set of rules entirely.

It was time that she started following the new rules. So this time she had decided not to wait until right before they went to bed. If he refused to talk about this like it was a family concern, which it was, then she would have to state it in terms that he could understand. It was why they were in his study, which she often came too after dinner. Lorna had already left to go get ready for bed. Susanna would be down later to brush her hair and tuck her in, a tradition which she knew would end in a year or so.

This was as close to a business environment that she was going to get. They were both still dressed formally and Susanna hadn't even begun to take her hair down yet. It was one of the first things she did when they retired for the night. Erik was finishing up writing something for some committee or some such. He was still filled with tension from the day. She hadn't yet decided if that would work in her favor or against her.

She'd also realized that she wasn't going to win. Not in the way she wanted to, and not in the way that Lorna wanted her to. Erik's mind was made up on the matter and she didn't know if she could override it. However, she would still win something if she moved fast. All it would take was some careful maneuvering and the future was set.

He didn't expect her to be stubborn and resist after he told her not to bring up the subject. For some reason or another he acted as though his word was law. That might be the appropriate tone to take with the government, but it was time that she reminded him that his family was not the government. She was his wife and Lorna was his daughter. He couldn't approach that like he did a bill that he wanted passed.

Gently she shut her book and took another deep breath. She wasn't looking forward to this exchange. She was going into battle with someone she had no wish to fight, and her weapons were not nearly as powerful as his. However, she knew it had to be that night. If she didn't start now then she knew she never would.

"Erik," she said, trying and somehow succeeding to keep her voice calm, "there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He put down his pen and swiveled in his chair to face her. She tried to keep a straight face as she examined his features. So far he looked like he didn't suspect yet. He thought that she was still playing by her old rule book, and he probably wouldn't realize what she was up to until it was too late. That was good.

She felt guilty for thinking of her husband as an opponent that she'd have to trick. Susanna wasn't one for guile. She'd gotten by fine when she was taking care of Lorna in hiding, but that had been with people she didn't care about. If she somehow made life difficult for them then she had done so to protect her daughter.

Susanna thought back to Lorna's tears when she was told she couldn't go to school and steeled herself. With that thought in mind this was just more of the same thing.

"What about?" he asked.

"Well…" Susanna said, her voice timid, "It's…a little while ago when I asked if Lorna could go to school-"

She saw his face drop like a rock and hurried the rest of her sentence.

"-and you said some things," she said, "And Erik…"

She sighed.

"I just wanted to say that I was sorry for bringing it up."

His expression changed and she felt herself relax slightly.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Erik said, his voice gentle, "You were just trying to do what you thought was best for her."

Susanna smiled but let the expression drop.

"It's just…I suppose I wasn't thinking," she said, "We're not just another family in West Germany anymore, are we?"

He shook his head and got up. Erik sat beside her and took her hand.

"I think things have changed for the better," he said.

"I do too. I'm happy here," Susanna said, "I just…I guess I just didn't realize how dangerous Genosha was."

Erik frowned, like she knew he would.

"It's not dangerous," he said, "There are just added dangers because of who we are now. And you and Lorna are particularly vulnerable."

She put her hand over his and dropped her eyes.

"I know," she said.

He tilted her head up again so he was looking in her eyes.

"Susanna, I know you're strong," he said, "I couldn't have asked for someone better to share my life with."

The guilt returned, and then she remembered how he had used similar words the night of their argument. Once again she banished it.

"But now…we're in a whole new situation," Erik said, "I have my powers; and I've never been concerned about myself. But I am concerned about you and Lorna."

"Because I'm not a mutant," Susanna said.

"Fortunately for the MRD, no," Erik said.

She managed a genuine smile.

"And because of this you need extra protections," he said, touching her face, "And right now Lorna does too."

"Going to school…" Susanna said, letting out a small laugh, "I just…wanted her to have the experience other children have."

"I know. And I'm not opposed to it in theory," Erik said, "But there are too many complications. She's still very young and her powers haven't fully developed yet."

There it was. She tried not to look too excited.

"When she gets older she'll be like her father I suspect," Susanna said.

Erik grinned.

"She has enough of her mother in her to correct that," said Erik.

Susanna laughed and gripped his hand. She was almost there.

"Her powers haven't developed yet, despite their early manifestation," Erik said, "But, they will in time."

"It'll make Neena's life a good deal easier."

"Indeed."

She swallowed and tilted her head, as though she'd just thought of something.

"So, she won't need bodyguards anymore then?" asked Susanna, "You know how she always tries to ditch them, especially when she's with Rahne."

"No," Erik laughed.

"So, she'll be more than able to take care of herself."

He nodded, still oblivious. Susanna allowed inspiration to shine through her eyes.

"Then there wouldn't be anything to worry about if she went to school after her powers developed," Susanna said.

Erik's face went blank. The gears had been set in motion. Susanna grabbed his hands and spoke, letting her true enthusiasm show through.

"That would be wonderful, wouldn't it?" asked Susanna, "She'd finally be safe to go out with other children!"

He looked at her, his face a conflict. She had him and he knew it.

"It could take…a very long time for that to happen," he said.

"Well, if she's anything like her father, which we know she is," Susanna said, her face still beaming, "then she'll be a fast learner."

Erik opened his mouth, but she continued to move fast. She couldn't afford to let him get a word in edgewise. Not when she'd come so far.

"And we'd need someone to teach her about her powers in a defensive mode, wouldn't we?" asked Susanna, as if the thought had just come into her head, "I mean, it's too dangerous for her to go around without her greatest weapon. I know you're busy, but maybe a lesson here or there would be good. And maybe Charles can help too. I hear he's good at this."

She smiled, knowing he'd agree. Once he knew what it was for he'd probably move other things around in his schedule.

"But don't worry," she said, "I'll take care of it. I know you have a lot on your mind."

Erik stared at her. She couldn't figure out his expression, but she decided not to stick around too long to figure it out. She looked over at the clock.

"I have to go now. I have to tuck Lorna in," Susanna said.

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He still wore the odd expression, but she had to pretend that she didn't see it. Susanna squeezed his hands once.

"It's perfect, isn't it?"

Without waiting for an answer she got up and left the room. Her heart was pounding as she walked but she felt like she was floating. She had secured her daughter the right to go to school. Right now Lorna was just moving small metal objects around slowly. She'd been coached by her father to learn the intricacies of her powers piece by piece. When she was told that it was going to get her to school, she knew she'd throw herself into it.

It could be years before her powers were strong enough to fight with. Susanna was prepared for that. However, she knew that at the rate Lorna was going she could be in school by her early teens. It was the only guarantee that she could give her daughter. It wasn't winning by any means, but it was close enough to victory that it made her heart soar.

She walked into Lorna's room. Her daughter was already ready for bed, looking up at her mother expectantly. Susanna grabbed her brush and sat down. She pulled her brush through her daughter's mint-green hair a hundred times until it was smooth. The custom dated back to when she had been staining her daughter's hair with coffee and tea, searching it for even the smallest trace of green. Then it had been a matter of life and death. Now it was just time spent with her daughter.

Lorna got into bed and Susanna pulled the covers under her chin. She kissed her on her forehead before pulling away.

"Goodnight Lorna," she said.

"'night mom," Lorna said.

Lorna inched the covers down and looked behind her.

"'night dad."

Susanna looked over her shoulder to see Erik leaning in the doorway. He smiled and Susanna saw the same strange look in his eyes.

"Goodnight Lorna."

Feeling odd Susanna got up. There was a feeling that the look caused in the back of her mind, almost like a prickle. Susanna shook it off. She turned off the light and closed the door. As soon as the door was shut Erik cupped her face in her hands, ensuring that she was looking into his eyes.

"Well played," he said.

The feeling in the back of her head became more pronounced. Despite it Susanna smiled, not sure what it meant. She swallowed and it quieted.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said.

Erik kissed her on the lips before leaning into her ear.

"I think you do," he whispered.

The feeling in the back of her head flared up, making her feel a little queasy. His lips moved from her ear to her lips again. When he pulled away the look in his eyes was gone.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand, "It's getting late."

She nodded and followed him down the hall. The feeling quieted until it disappeared, leaving her puzzled. It was only once they'd passed the study did she recognize the feeling she'd had. It was fear. No matter how small the amount, no matter how unconsciously she had felt it, for one moment she had been afraid of her husband.

The thought only made her hold his hand tighter.


	15. Chapter 15

September 30, 1959

Emma looked over her strawberry sundae and nodded. She was sitting outside her favorite café on one of Genosha's cooler days with Clarice. She was so busy these days that it was hard to find time like this. Going to see her was always gratifying though, and it always made Emma feel better.

Clarice was happy, and that happiness was contagious. Emma could see it pouring out of her eyes as she went about. At first Emma knew that that happiness had been a result of getting out of a life of battle and into one that was more academic. Her friend had been given all of the equipment to fight, except for the will.

Oh, she'd fight her way out of a corner if she needed to. Clarice would laugh at danger and spit in the face of her captors and Emma knew that she often had. She could decimate armies. It didn't mean that she wanted to though.

However, Emma had to hand it to Calvin. He'd made a large contribution towards Clarice's current mood. She'd been there, keeping a polite distance of course, when he'd blundered through an invitation for a date. It was sweet in a way, especially since he seemed in awe of Clarice. Like she was a girl out of his league.

Emma would, of course, agree with him. Clarice was beautiful, intelligent, kind, yet fierce. Any man would be lucky to have her. However, she'd been disgusted to see that many mutants were still wary of other mutants with visible mutations. With her pink skin Clarice might not be found beautiful in any other country by narrow-minded humans, but on Genosha it should have been obvious.

The disgusting trait was especially poignant in those who came after Genosha was announced to the United Nations. Emma hadn't really known Calvin then, but she'd found out that Clarice had a crush on him. She'd only seen him once or twice as Clarice's study partner as they took language courses. After learning that he was a recent immigrant Emma's heart had sank and she'd vowed to hurt him if he said anything cruel to her.

In the end her fears had been groundless. Calvin was built of better stuff and he'd blushingly asked Clarice out. Emma had peered out from the next room with bated breath. Clarice's confused reaction to such an advance was overcome almost immediately. She'd accepted and Emma had watched their growing love with approval.

Hearing Clarice talk about him was like the waves crashing on the beach to Emma. She didn't understand much about it, couldn't distinguish too many details, but she liked hearing it nonetheless. It was the same way she viewed Kayla talking about Logan. She wanted them all to be happy.

To Emma life was simple. There were five types of people in the world. The first type were the types she hated. They were the ones who had killed her brother, locked her away, and tortured her. Emma admitted that most humans were in this category by default because she knew they'd do the same things to her if she didn't watch her back.

The second were people she was indifferent about. They were people she passed by on the street or had small conversations with. To Emma they might as well not exist at all. They were out there, she knew that, they handed her things and she made purchases from them. They talked in Parliament, but in many ways they were just voices to her.

Then there was the type of people she respected rather than loved. She would take bullets for Magnus or Charles or many other cabinet members. They had earned her respect and, in the case of Magnus and Charles, she would take their orders with nary a second thought. There were no real emotions connected with them other than that respect though, and perhaps a little gratitude. They had rescued her after all.

Next were the people who made the people she loved happy. She counted the Szardos family, Calvin, and Logan as that type. Emma liked the Szardos family the best, Calvin coming a close second, but her personal feelings weren't really important. It was why Logan was in there. These were the type of people who made those she loved happy. If they could do that, then they were under her protection, though many could protect themselves.

Last but not least were the people she fiercely loved. Emma wouldn't just kill or die for them. She'd do anything. And among these people were Kayla, Laura, Clarice, and Azazel. It was a small amount of people that she had let in and the rules for it weren't exactly definite. Laura had even been born into this type. However, these were the people she cared for and wanted to see happy.

So she continued to listen to Clarice talk about Calvin, not really understanding what any of it meant. As long as he kept that light in her eyes Emma would approve of him. If he hurt her, well, that was another matter. Still, he seemed like he was a good man. As long as Clarice kept speaking like that, then she wished him all the luck in the world.

* * *

"You know, I was thinking about the beach," Morph said, "Thinkin' 'bout the waves. I was thinking I should buy me a boat when I get back."

Calvin looked over at Morph, wondering if the world had gone mad. He took a deep breath and struggled to speak in a rational tone.

"We've got our backs against a solid steel wall. We are protected only by a few boxes I had the foresight to knock down," Calvin said, "And there are currently fourteen MRD agents shooting at us."

As if to punctuate his words there was a spray of bullets of his head. Morph shrugged and scratched his head.

"And?"

"And what part of this reminds you of the beach?" demanded Calvin.

Morph shrugged, grinning.

"Dunno. Must be the climate."

Calvin forced another calm breath. The second base in Europe was in Italy, near the coastline. He'd had to admit that it had been rather pleasant before they'd blown open the doors and had to fight the high level of security that the MRD had installed. Even so, he felt his friend should have a little more decorum.

"The climate?" he asked.

Morph shrugged again.

"So, by your pissed tone can I take it that you're ready to stop napping and take these guys out?" he asked.

Calvin rolled his eyes. He liked Morph. If you ever called him over the radio he'd be there as fast as he could carry him. He was dependable, and he would never leave anyone behind. On a personal level they were friends. Sometimes though, just sometimes, he wondered if his friend was completely insane.

"Yes, I'm ready," Calvin said, "I'll start with a light flash as a distraction; I picked it up from Allison Blaire."

"Oooh, fancy fancy. Now we're hanging out with singers are we?" Morph grinned, "Should your girlfriend be getting jealous?"

He started to wish that he'd never talked about his personal life.

"Jesus Morph! She was in one of my classes! Now can we get moving?"

"Okay, okay," Morph said, "Ixnay on the friendgirl."

He didn't have the patience to correct his pig Latin.

"Alright. Glad we have that sorted," Calvin said, rubbing his temples, "You can use that to get to the first row, can't you?"

"Yessir."

"Then let's go!"

Waiting for the bullets to subside Calvin reached over their barricade and sent a blinding flash of light, using the echoes of the bullets hitting metal. Allison's power was hard for him to deal with, something about its abstract nature. It worked in a pinch though. The men yelled out and the noise stopped, but the light kept going. He could sustain it for a little longer and, besides, it hadn't done its job yet. Not completely.

Using the light as his cover Morph barreled forward, his back to the light. Calvin couldn't see what happened after the first few seconds, and he was forced to rely on sound. Guns clattered to the floor. Calvin counted the noise; five. Five men had been taken down, or thereabouts. They weren't that heavily armed.

Launching himself over the barricade Calvin rushed forward. He wasn't going to let Morph charge into the fight by his own. Morph was good at fighting in close quarters, but he couldn't let him get swarmed. Morph had a good healing factor, but he didn't want to find out just how much it would protect him.

Calvin jumped up next to him, barreling into the others. He pulled a standard issue gun from his thigh holster. He'd been saving it for their charge instead of returning fire. Morph had a gun too; they all did. They also had grenades and plenty of ammunition for their weapons. They came equipped to use their natural skills as well as their mutations. Hellions weren't made to be one-trick horses.

He took down three agents before anyone noticed him. Morph, with his gray-white skin, was an attention getter. Calvin dodged their attempts to fire at him before tackling into one and slamming him against the wall. The remaining ones were taken down in a flurry of fists and light. Calvin finished pounding the last man into the wall and looked over at Morph. He dusted off his hands and grinned at Calvin.

"So," he said, "control panel now?"

Calvin nodded. They walked up to the room the MRD agents had tried to protect. Calvin rolled his neck and let his skin turn to metal. Piotr, whose name he learned later, had been very obliging in letting him keep it. It had certainly come in handy more than once during their current mission.

Pulling his fist back he slammed it into the door. After three more punches the door collapsed inwards. Letting his skin turn to back to normal Calvin walked in and took one look at the control panels. There were two of them, each with their own station. He sat down and looked at the keyboard. Cracking his knuckles he summoned up the information he knew about MRD tech. With another breath he began clicking away.

Morph took the second panel and began typing as fast as Calvin, if not just a little faster. Technological training was also part of their prep work, and they worked well in pairs. In a few minutes the panel lit and several different buttons flashed. Downstairs Calvin knew that the cells were opening and the prisoners were being ushered into the arms of the Hellions.

Next to him Morph swiveled in his chair. He gave him a thumbs-up.

"Another successful mission then?" asked Morph.

"Looks like," said Calvin.

His radio crackled. Calvin picked up his radio and turned it on.

"This is Mimic," he said, smirking in triumph, "The control panel is reached and breached. Over."

"This is Sunfire. I'm with Thunderbird and Sasquatch," Sunfire said, "The lower levels are secured. Over."

Calvin frowned. He could hear her voice trembling. Sunfire was steady and dependable. He didn't like the tone in her voice.

"What's wrong? Over."

"Mimic…there are children down here," Sunfire said, "A lot of them. Over."

His stomach lurched. He looked over and saw the unpleasant look on Morph's face. They knew that children were captured and put in MRD facilities sometimes. It was a harsh reality. Generally they didn't manifest their mutations when they were too young, so small children were generally spared MRD custody. Not everyone was lucky enough to escape, and apparently many of them had been very unlucky.

"Okay Sunfire, we'll be down," Calvin said, swallowing, "Over."

He clicked off his radio. Morph and he didn't speak a word as they made their way downstairs. There were great triumphs to be had in their job, but that also meant that there were great loses to be endured as well. They met Sunfire on the way. She was standing in front of a door looking stunned.

Morph, who had always been closer to Sunfire than Calvin had, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He managed a smile.

"Hey, it's okay," Morph said, his voice serious for once, "We've got them now. They're going to be okay."

Sunfire shook her head, closing her eyes against her tears.

"No," she said, "No they're not."

Immediately Calvin was seized by a terrible feeling of foreboding. He looked at the door. More than anything he wanted to walk away, to leave this to people who already knew and couldn't go back to not knowing. That wasn't who he was though; he was in charge of the Hellions and it was his responsibility. So, with a deep breath, he opened the door to the room next to them.

Almost immediately he gagged on the air. It was foul, fetid. Several of the Hellions were tending to the children. He saw Sasquatch, the team's medic, attending to a few. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her eyes were glazed. It was a look he'd seen her adopt when she was trying to pull shrapnel from a man's guts.

All around them children were being gingerly moved from their bunks. Some were asleep or wrapped in blankets. Even more were unmoving. Many of the children were crying and the Hellions were struggling to conceal their own emotions. He saw Thunderbird carrying one child, his jaw twitching. Like everyone else, he was having difficulty.

From the sight that met Calvin's eyes, he couldn't blame them.


	16. Chapter 16

Charles closed his eyes, trying hard to block out what he was hearing. Next to him he could feel Erik tense. He opened his eyes and looked around the cabinet room. They had heard a lot of bad news in the room around them. They'd heard of attacks on civilians as they drove to work, about friends who fell in the line of combat.

And yet, despite all that, somehow this was worse. He'd been always left his personal life at the door, but at that moment he was grateful for Moira's presence in the room.

"Please, for the sake of clarity," Charles said, his voice quiet and his eyes lowered, "Tell us exactly what you found."

Captain Calvin Rankin of the Hellions looked straight ahead, his eyes fixed on some unidentifiable point far away. Whatever training he'd received from Christopher and Logan had done him good. He was a soldier through and through. Charles could only imagine that it had taken every ounce of his training to get through that facility.

"The MRD scientists had begun some sort of experimentation program on the younger children. We're not sure but we believe they were selected because they were still growing," Calvin said, "They had begun amputating limbs and replacing them, and other organs, with their own constructs. Some of the children had even had their memories wiped. When their parents were brought from other parts of the facility they couldn't remember them."

"They can do that?" asked Erik, his voice harsh.

"It would appear so," Calvin said, "Some of the children…they didn't…the new additions didn't take."

Charles could only imagine what that meant and he shuddered inwardly. Next to him Moira took a deep breath. He thought of Rahne who, according to reports, was the same age as many of the children used in the experiments. His hands gripped the table tightly. She'd been spared the horrors of the MRD facilities only by Moira's mercy and understanding. He knew that most of those children hadn't been so lucky, that Moira was thinking of thier daughter as well.

He glanced over at Erik. He knew that he must be thinking the same thing about Lorna, the same thing that Christopher must have thought of his sons or Logan about Laura when they heard the news. There wouldn't be a single Genoshan parent who wouldn't hold their children close when they heard.

"How many children were there?" asked Charles.

"Twenty sir."

"Twenty," Charles repeated, "And how many survived the trip to Genosha?"

Calvin blinked, the only show of emotion he had displayed thus far.

"Seven sir," he said, "Several of them were already dead when we arrived. Those with memory trouble soon lapsed into comas sir."

The idea of parents being reunited with their children only to have that happen horrified him to his core.

"And many of them…" Calvin said, "many of them aren't expected to survive the next few weeks."

Charles nodded. He looked over at Erik. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Charles didn't trust his friend to speak at the moment.

"Thank you Captain," he said, "You're dismissed."

Calvin got up and bowed stiffly. He walked out of the room, leaving Charles and Erik with Arthur, Dominikos, and Moira. He nodded to the X-men.

"You're dismissed as well."

The two X-men nodded before leaving the room. He caught a glimpse of their expressions. They were troubled and angry. They had no families of their own, but both had once been in MRD custody. He knew for a fact that Arthur had been experimented on. Although Charles had never been captured, he knew that something like that never left you.

He looked over at Moira.

_Love, I need to talk to Erik alone_, he thought, _We...we need to figure out how to handle this with the press._

Moira nodded.

_I'll wait for you by the car. _

He let a wave of gratitude follow her out of the room. Once they were alone Charles looked over at Erik.

"Erik?" Charles asked.

When he'd been dismissing the others Erik had laid his arm on the table. Charles saw him stroking the numbers embedded in his wrist.

"Erik?" Charles asked, his voice softer.

Erik raised his head.

"Sometimes I'd like to kill them," Erik said, "Kill them all and be done with it. No trials, just instant death."

Charles flinched.

"We'll bring the MRD down," said Charles, "We will."

His friend tapped the numbers on his arm again. Charles waited for a response, hoping that he would say something.

"We've been too soft on them," Erik said at last.

"The penalty for being involved with the MRD is death," said Charles, "We instituted it last year Erik. Everyone agreed that twenty years was too little."

He had felt uneasy about seconding that motion, especially since, when it was first introduced, it would involve double jeopardy concerning those already in custody. The passing of the law didn't need his support. At least he'd managed to get it down to humanitarian executions and ban double jeopardy. It would have set a dangerous precedent.

"I'm not talking about the MRD," Erik said, "I mean humans."

Charles blinked. Of the many things he had been expecting from Erik's reaction, this wasn't one of them.

"What?" asked Charles.

"They think that they can get away with this," Erik said, his voice calm, "so they do it. I'm through with letting them. So, as I said, we need to let them know that we're not going to tolerate this anymore."

"Erik," Charles said, struggling, "the MRD is the result of sick individuals. We're fighting them, and we'll find them and-"

"No Charles," Erik said, "No."

He looked up and Charles fought the urge to look away from the hate he saw in Erik's eyes.

"Humanity's prejudice and fear will destroy any idea of mutant brotherhood or communion with them," Erik said, "It seems inevitable that we will come into a war, not just with the MRD, but with all of humanity."

Silence fell over them. Charles swallowed hard.

"You can't mean that Erik," he said, "You can't."

Erik turned his gaze back to the numbers on his arm.

"Can't I Charles? We both know that the MRD is merely the tip of the iceberg," he said, his voice that same terrible calm, "There are good humans out there, I know it. I'm not foolish enough to deny it. They hide our children and fight with us and-"

"Marry us?" Charles said, his voice sharp.

His friend blinked and looked at him. His expression was one of mild shock, as if he'd momentarily forgotten about the woman who looked at him as though he were her world. The idea scared Charles and he fought to bury it. Erik could get angry sometimes, but he knew that he loved Susanna.

"Of course," Erik said, "We'll have to make a public statement about this. Better the public hears about it from us than somewhere else."

"I agree," Charles said.

They worked out the logistics of the statement between the two of them. Words were carefully added and omitted until there was copy ready that would deliver the bad news. When it was done Erik pulled his arm away from the table and got up. Charles watched him leave, wondering what on earth he was thinking.

* * *

Erik walked down the hallway, his hands clenched into fists by his side. It had been a bad night, and it wasn't about to get any better. The news of the children had shocked him deeply, though he knew it shouldn't have. No one knew better than he did that children were often casualties of war.

His strides were long and he felt veins throbbing in his temple. He knew from experience that a migraine was coming on. It was going to be terrible in its coming unless he could calm down or find some aspirin. Given as he'd used up the last of his aspirin and he didn't think he'd be getting over his anger any time soon, he found it unlikely.

He stopped looked around. The guards' patrol beat led them to a different part of the palace at that time of night. He couldn't let anyone see what he was doing. It wasn't as though it were wrong, but he knew all too much that he wasn't allowed to show weakness at a time like this. First thing in the morning Genosha was going to receive terrible news, and he and Charles would once again have to be the rocks on which their confidence rested.

So he looked around carefully before proceeding to Lorna's room. He opened the door quietly and looked in, needing to reassure himself. Lorna was sleeping soundly, her arms wrapped around a teddy bear and her mint green hair a tumble around her. Nothing was out of place, nothing was amiss.

He'd had too many nightmares about something being amiss, both before and after Lorna came to Genosha, to not need to do this. She had never known pain like he had. She'd never seen her mother shot to death and watched as her father was slowly worked to his grave. She'd never endured the torture he had and he thanked the powers that be every night for that.

Ever since she'd been born he'd wanted her childhood to be the antithesis of his. Lorna had been born innocent despite her father's scornful and angry ways. She'd been born innocent despite the fact that she was the product of a marriage made from duty on his part rather than love as it should have been.

And he'd watch her grow up, stumbling over her first steps and words. And she'd always loved him. He'd been able to get her to sleep or eat when Susanna hadn't. Instead of resenting this Susanna had been delighted by it. They had helped her grow together, watching time pass as their perfect creation took form and began learning.

It was something that, for all his other knowledge, Charles didn't understand. Erik respected him, but he believed he couldn't quite understand what the news of the children meant. He was new to fatherhood, and Rahne wasn't his biologically. In other senses she was still new to him. Charles hadn't seen her grow, hadn't had the fierce urge to protect her from the first moment that he'd seen her.

He closed the door as quietly as he could and walked away. Erik went to his own room, pausing before he went in. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The migraine was coming, making his head throb and pain stab at his eyes. He tried to shake off the worst of it before he went in.

Susanna was asleep, one arm fanned out on his side of the bed. Despite himself a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Many times she was still awake when he came back from the meetings in the middle of the night, but if she was asleep she always looked like that. At first he had been puzzled as it why it was. Later it had come to him that she had struggled to wait up for him.

In more recent times it was rare for her to fall asleep before he got back. She'd had less of a workload in the beginning. Times had been busy though, and he could appreciate that. Even so she still tried, her arm a sign that she had fallen asleep with her head propped up, only falling onto the pillow once she had fallen asleep.

It was an endearing call back to the early days of their marriage. In the end he'd asked her not to. They were both working and she needed her rest just as much as he did. It didn't stop her from waking up when he came back after working late nights, draping her arms around his waist and leaning into his shoulder.

She'd been strong in her own way from the very start. They'd had recent arguments, true enough. In some ways it was amusing. He supposed that he should have explained himself a little better. He disliked what had happened, but in the end Susanna was just a mother doing what she thought was best for her child. And he really should be teaching Lorna how to defend herself before she got too much older.

Charles' comment about marriage suddenly came into his mind. He sighed irritably as got out of his formal day wear. It was another thing that Charles didn't really seem to understand. Of course he hadn't believed that Susanna was the type of human who encouraged the MRD. She didn't have an ounce of darkness about her, which still puzzled him on occasion. She had, after all, married him out of love.

The very thought of Susanna being near the black pit of humanity that he'd described to Charles made him grit his teeth. He'd never meant that he saw her as part of it. He was just acknowledging the existence of such a pit. It was something that his friend was going to have to learn to reconcile himself with.

He got into bed, his head soothed slightly by the darkness of the room and the softness of the pillow. Almost immediately Susanna shifted, burying her head in the crook of his neck as she always had. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. One of her hands placed itself over his heart. It was a recent change and he wondered about it, but he hadn't asked what had caused it.

"Everything alright?" she murmured.

He closed his eyes. Sometimes he would talk to her about the results of the meetings. At the moment, he didn't even want to think about it.

"It's alright," he murmured back.

Erik kissed her forehead and he thought he saw Susanna smile. Her fingers on his chest splayed out and he put his hand over hers. This time he was sure he saw her smile.


	17. Chapter 17

October 14, 1959

Raven had done many things in her life that she found difficult. She'd stayed on the sidelines as a child whilst the revolution raged about her. Raven had organized political events that, at her age, she shouldn't have known were going on. She'd begun combat training, trying to push past the sore limbs and sprained muscles. She'd reconciled herself to being too young and too inexperienced to fight like everyone else she knew.

Volunteering at the hospital had now been added to the list. Raven had enjoyed helping the doctors there, learning their craft and helping them with simple chores. It had made her feel like she was doing something with her life. Her seventeenth birthday was coming up fast and she felt like she'd taken the first vital steps towards adulthood. It had been fun, in a way.

Ever since the Hellions had brought the children back from Italy it had turned into a living nightmare. There had been seven of them to begin with. Combined with the injured Hellions the hospital had had its hands full. Raven had gone in, mentally preparing herself for what she'd find. She thought she'd been well-equipped because of her time helping out with MRD prisoners as a child. She was wrong.

The first time she'd gone into the ward appropriated for the children she'd had to fight the urge to scream. Too much had been done to them, their fragile skeletal systems remolded, muscles replaced, and mechanical parts put in. None of the children had a healing factor that would help them cope, the pain medications their only relief.

She'd found herself, not for the first time in her life, hating humans. She didn't hate humans like Moira or Susanna, she recognized the exceptions, but the rest she wished would be swallowed up by the earth. These were children, many of their mutations having just manifested. Just looking at the pain they'd endured made her want to cry.

Raven hadn't had the luxury of doing so when she was in the hospital. Medications needed to be administered and comfort provided. Some could still eat solid foods, but it would have to be spoon-fed to them. Others were on liquid diets that required IVs. It was hoped that, in time, they would recover.

Hope failed as, one by one, the children slipped away. Even the liquid diets combined with solid ones couldn't feed their new metabolisms fast enough. The children contracted fevers that ranged high above what should have been natural for them. Many fell into comas and, days later, flat lined.

It was hard to watch and harder to help with. No matter what anyone did it seemed like the experiments had harmed the children's systems in ways they couldn't compensate for. Raven felt helpless and useless. All she could do was provide some semblance of comfort, but the children were losing hope too. They had been separated a few days ago to spare them the sight of the other children dying, but it didn't seem to help.

Raven hadn't let a word of her troubles reach her brother or friends. Who was she to complain? They had all done their part for their country, for the good of mutantkind, and she should at least be trying. So she kept her tears to herself and her head held high, not letting anyone see her inner turmoil.

So when she got the call from the hospital that they were short-staffed she nearly cried out. Raven had to go in. They needed her and that meant that she had to march up those steps, swallow her fears, and help out. It was what being an adult was; sacrificing your own feelings to something greater than you. It didn't mean that it was easy.

It didn't help that she was babysitting Rahne when she got the call. The girl had gotten out of school and both her parents were involved in state business. Neither of them could get time off so Charles had begged Raven to watch her until they got home. He assured her that the current political situation would pass fairly quickly and she wouldn't be doing it for more than a few days.

The situation hadn't passed quickly enough, so Rahne would be with her for a while. She'd been forced to take Rahne with her. She'd found some nook far enough away from the hubbub of the hospital where Rahne could read and do her homework. Rahne was responsible enough to know not to go wandering around. As long as she didn't tell her parents, then things would be fine.

Raven got to work immediately, deciding to bite the bullet and visit the children first. She walked into one of the rooms to find it empty of its occupant. Her heart sank. A doctor with her hair pulled into dreadlocks looked over at her. She bowed her head and finished removing the chart from the wall. Raven saw her nametag labeled her as Dr. Hudson.

"He's gone, as is the girl," she said, her voice low, "They slipped away within hours of each other."

Raven put a hand over her mouth and bit back tears.

"So that just leaves…?" she asked.

Dr. Hudson nodded and Raven looked down at her chart.

"I'll go…give him his pain meds," Raven murmured.

Dr. Hudson nodded again, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth. Raven walked away, wondering just how difficult it was for the doctors there to lose so many so fast. She walked into the last child's room, adjusting the IV's and administering the medication. She kept up a light-hearted conversation, but he didn't respond. He hadn't for a while, his eyes open and alert but staring away from her.

He was responsive. He ate and seemed aware, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. Raven wondered if he knew he was the last, if he knew that there was a good chance that he was going to die before his time. It seemed cruel, but it was the only explanation she could come up with.

Raven left the room and walked out into the hallway. She made it to the unoccupied volunteer-lounge before she started crying. The idea of the last child all alone in the hospital, no family to speak of, and waiting for the same fate as his peers was too much. Raven cried as quietly as possible, so it surprised her when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up and found that Azazel was sitting next to her. She hurriedly tried to wipe her tears, embarrassed, but he shook his head.

"Nyet," he said, "It is normal."

Nonetheless he held out tissues he'd gotten from somewhere. Raven accepted them with a nod of thanks. After a few minutes of silence Azazel said;

"It is the children, da?"

She nodded, surprised that he knew.

"Hellions are almost ready to go on next mission," he said, "Asked me to come and check every now and then."

"You're not on the team?" Raven managed.

"Nyet," Azazel said, "One mission. Needed expertise. That is all."

Raven nodded. She finished wiping away the last of her tears and looked down.

"It…it's not fair," she managed.

He looked over at her. She knew how childish she sounded at that moment, but she had been dying to say that to someone.

"They should be fine now that they're here," Raven said, "They shouldn't have to…it isn't fair."

Azazel nodded, his expression still serious. There was no disdain or scorn there, only silent acceptance.

"Nyet," he said, his voice quiet, "it is not."

* * *

Rahne shut her book and looked around the small room. She was sure that it had been a supply closet at one point. Now it was some sort of play area, and it was boring. There was no one else in it and it was quieter than her classroom during a math test. She'd finished up her homework some time ago and was counting the number of ceiling tiles.

Time passed slowly. Rahne had no way of knowing when her aunt would take her home and she sighed, feeling irritable. She didn't like being left in small areas, especially if they were empty and quiet. It brought back too many bad memories. She was mostly over that by now, especially since she knew she was in a hospital. If this had been a house then things would have been worse.

Nonetheless she was having a hard time staying in that room. Rahne folded her arms and looked around her. The magazines on the table were too old for her, and the toys in the corner were too childish. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. She'd talk to her aunt about this. There was no way she was going to have this happen again.

An idea popped into her mind. What if she showed her aunt instead of telling her? Rahne perked up at the thought. She'd just go for a little walk around, alleviating her boredom. Maybe there were better play areas. And if Raven didn't like it then she shouldn't have put her away in the first place.

Packing up her backpack Rahne slid off the seat. She opened the door and started walking confidently around the hallways. It was a trick of hers. If you looked like you knew where you were going, even if you were a child, then people tended to ask less questions. She was sure that it had saved her life when she was younger.

Rahne wandered the halls for a while, nearly running into her aunt. She had to backtrack quickly. That hadn't been part of the plan. She was supposed to find her after looking around for a while, not because she bumped into her. Rahne went in the opposite direction, making sure that Raven didn't see her.

Just when Rahne thought she was safe she saw Dr. McCoy at the other end of the hallway. She knew running into him would be almost as bad as running into Raven. It could actually be worse, since he was a friend of her parents' and might tell them. Seeing him coming from the end of the hall Rahne did the only thing she could think of; she went into the nearest room and closed the door.

Almost immediately she knew she'd done something wrong. Rahne could tell that she wasn't supposed to be in that room. For one thing, the room wasn't empty. It was filled with machines and the lights were dimmed. There was a child on the bed, who'd turned to look at her when she came in. His face was blank and Rahne had to swallow.

Part of his face was normal, if perhaps a little ashen. The other half of his face was black and crinkly. It was shiny too, almost like plastic. As she watched red and orange sparks travelled across the surface of his skin, leading into his eye which looked mechanical. And both of those eyes, normal and mechanical, were staring at her.

Overall Rahne felt like an idiot. She swallowed again and looked at the ground.

"Sorry to barge in," she said, "I'm…gonna be in trouble if I go out. Can I hide in here?"

At the last minute she remembered her manners.

"Please?"

She looked up. The boy stared at her for another minute before turning his head to the side. Rahne frowned, puzzled. She supposed that was a yes, but she wasn't certain. Still feeling strange she dumped her backpack near the bed and got into the chair next to it. She sat down, pulling her knees up to her chin.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Rahne glanced at the boy.

"Aren't you going to ask why I'd be in trouble?" she asked.

He didn't answer. She frowned.

"Well?"

He didn't say anything. He didn't even turn his head to acknowledge her. She let out a puff of frustrated breath.

"Fine," she said, "I'm gonna tell you anyway. If you don't want me to you have to tell me now, or I'm gonna start talking and I won't stop."

She prepared to go on until she realized how rude she'd sounded. Her mother would be mad if she knew.

"Or you can just stay silent and I'll take that as a yes," she conceded.

There was still no reply.

"Okay," Rahne said , "My parents have been busy lately and my aunt had to babysit me. Only she brought me here and I finished my homework ages ago and I was bored so I went exploring. It was fun, but then I had to keep an eye out for her and some other people so I didn't get in trouble. One of them nearly got me when I came in here."

He didn't say anything. Rahne gnawed at her lip, wondering if she was really that boring.

"I can tell you about some other things too," she said, "I have a friend named L-Wanda. I had a sleepover there a week ago and she has a really big house."

The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue and she sighed before she continued to tell the story. For some reason or another she wasn't allowed to call Lorna by her real name when she talked about her to other people. Something about her being a princess. So she had taken to calling her Wanda when she talked about her to Carly. She started her story, careful to keep her names straight in her head.

A long time passed and Rahne continued talking. The boy never said anything back, but he'd given her leave to talk and she continued to do so. She was just describing a movie she'd seen when she heard footsteps down the hall. Rahne didn't pay too much attention until the door opened and Raven stared in, her eyes wide and angry.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" she said, "You shouldn't be in here!"

"I was bored," Rahne shrugged.

Raven shook her head before gesturing for her to leave. Rahne rolled her eyes and grabbed her backpack. As she slid out of her chair she turned her head to the boy.

"Bye-"

She stopped, realizing she didn't know her name. Despite her aunt's angry face she peered at his chart.

"-Doug," she said, "Thanks for letting me hide in here."

Rahne began to walk out of the door. Raven looked livid and she wasn't in a hurry to be scolded. Just as she reached her aunt she heard a faint, raspy voice say;

"You're coming back…right?"

She heard Raven gasp. Rahne looked back and saw that the boy had turned his face towards her. She smiled.

"Sure thing!" Rahne said.

Rahne waved and then paused. She looked up at Raven, remembering that she needed her permission. Her aunt's eyes were wide and her mouth was open.

"If it's okay?" she asked reluctantly.

"It…it's okay," Raven said.


	18. Chapter 18

November 2, 1959

"No, that's impossible."

Katherine raised her eyebrow. Moira swallowed before taking a deep breath. She had very little free time these days. The latest political crisis appeared to be ending though, and she'd looked forward to an afternoon off with her friend. Raven had been eager to babysit Rahne so the stars had aligned.

Luckily for her Katherine had the afternoon off too. Her boys were with their father, exploring a military barracks. Apparently they loved going to work with him. Kayla had work to do at the school setting up for a play about nutrition her class was doing. Moira was looking forward to seeing Rahne in it.

Susanna hadn't been able to come either, which was slightly worrying since she'd hoped to see her. Moira knew that she was a little off since her request to have Lorna go to school with the other children was denied. There was something puzzled about her now, as though she was trying to figure something out.

Despite Susanna and Kayla's absences she and Katherine had gone out for coffee and cake on the main drag of the capitol. Because Susanna wasn't with them they were able to go to a much more public place. Moira was recognizable, her grand wedding had ensured that, but she was pretty good at dodging the press. Susanna was just too recognizable.

Overall it had been an excellent afternoon. After the cake she'd been feeling a little sick, a common occurrence in recent times. Katherine had asked her what was the matter and Moira had described her symptoms. Since it was Katherine, who was always trying to be helpful, she had expected some sort of advice. She hadn't expected what she'd just heard.

"I'm sure that's what it is. Trust me," Katherine said, "No offense, but you are displaying all the symptoms."

"But…I…I'm not pregnant," said Moira.

Katherine put down her coffee cup and gave her friend a long look.

"Are you on some sort of birth control?" she asked.

"Well, no," Moira said.

"Were you late this month?"

Moira nodded.

"That doesn't mean anything though," Moira said, "I've always been very active so I'm sometimes late or I skip months and-"

"How about the month before?"

"No..."

"In fact, when was the last time you had your cycle?" Katherine asked.

Moira frowned. With everything that had been going on she hadn't really thought about it. When she did her eyes lit up.

"Three months ago," she said.

Katherine nodded and leaned back.

"Coming from the mother of two boys, you sound like you're pregnant," Katherine said, "But haven't you done this before?"

It took Moira a minute to realize what Katherine was asking.

"I adopted Rahne."

Her friend blinked.

"Oh…I just assumed," she said, "The two of you look so alike."

Moira smiled. If Rahne were there she knew she'd be doing cartwheels of joy.

"Thank you," Moira said, "But…this is unexpected."

"Were you not planning on having more children?" asked Katherine.

"No, we were. Someday," Moira said, "I just…well…I suppose that Charles and I never thought that someday would be so soon."

"Same for me and Christopher," Katherine laughed, "And now we have two boys growing like weeds."

Moira smiled again and looked down at her coffee. The idea of a child warmed her in a way she hadn't expected. Her analytical mind began flipping through ideas and preparations. They'd have to turn a room into a nursery, a proper one. Rahne had come to her at five years old, not in need of a cradle or many of the other things babies needed. They could share a bed and Rahne had been glad for the human contact. A baby would be different.

"There's so much to do," Moira said.

Across from her Katherine hesitated.

"I could be wrong," Katherine said, "To be sure you should probably go to the hospital. They can get tests done in a few hours or send them home if you can't stay."

A few hours. She did some quick calculations in her head. It would mean sacrificing her free afternoon, but the thought of a child growing inside her made her business-like, undercut by excitement. There were things that needed to be done. She could wait around the hospital for results. There was no pressing need to get back home.

She felt bad for leaving Rahne with Raven for so long, but the idea of a sibling and a nephew or niece would cheer them up. Rahne was ravenous for a younger sibling. Her not-so-subtle-hints had started shortly after Moira had married Charles. In particular she appeared to be hoping for a baby brother.

Moira got into her car, but Katherine insisted on driving. It was only then that Moira noticed her hands were shaking. She agreed and moved to the passenger's seat. The city seemed to crawl by them and Moira could feel apprehension growing in her stomach. Part of her mind was still on ideas about the nursery.

It just seemed so incredible. Not so long ago she'd been a CIA agent who'd been forced to send her daughter away for her own safety. Her bosses were uncooperative as she struggled to do her job. She'd been separated from the man she loved by distance and politics. Moira had been isolated in almost every sense of the word, trying to do what she thought was the right thing and ending up miserable.

Now she had been reunited with her daughter. Moira was allowed to do her old job, only she had a government that was cooperating with her. She had married the man she thought she'd never have, and she was possibly carrying his child. Her hand went to her stomach wonderingly, her mind whirring away with possibilities.

She got out of the car, her steps jerky. Katherine put a hand on her shoulder as if to balance her. Getting into the hospital seemed like a difficulty. Despite her recent turn Moira still had enough presence of mind to know that gossip could spread like wild fire. So she went up to the desk and asked for Norton McCoy on business.

He'd been more than a little surprised when he heard that it wasn't business and something else entirely. However, he was the only doctor there she knew who would keep her secret. He'd called in a few of his more trusted nurses and they'd conducted the tests. Now the only thing left to do was wait for the results.

Katherine was able to wait patiently in the waiting room. Moira was not. She made all sorts of excuses to move, to do something other than read. Katherine understood that and she felt a wave of gratitude for her friend. If not for her than she wouldn't have known of the possibility of her pregnancy until much later.

She wandered the halls, coming down to one of the lower wards. Moira got a drink of water from a nearby fountain and sighed. Just as she got ready to go one of the doors next to her opened. Raven walked out, adjusting her clipboard. Moira jerked her head up fully and Raven's eyes met with hers.

"Raven?" asked Moira.

There was a long pause.

"I'd like to start my apology," Raven said slowly, "by saying that I really had to come into the hospital today."

Moira barely heard her words.

"Did you bring Rahne with you?"

Raven furrowed her brow.

"That's why you're here…isn't it?"

Moira opened her mouth and then shook her head.

"Nevermind. Is she with you?"

Raven looked uncomfortable.

"Not…not exactly."

"What's that mean?"

Raven put up her hands in mock-surrender. For a moment all of Moira's worries about the possibility of her pregnancy went out the window.

"Follow me," she said.

She led Moira down a few doors. Raven put a finger to her lips before opening one door a crack. Moira peered in. She saw a boy on a bed, his face marred and twisted by black flesh and small lights. She recognized him as Doug Ramsay, one of the children rescued by the Hellions. His head was turned and he was listening to Rahne chatter on with interest.

Raven closed the door quietly.

"I brought her once a few weeks ago and…he spoke to her," Raven said, "For the first time in days, he spoke to someone. And he wanted her to come back. He just wants a friend his age and…and Rahne's not afraid of him."

Moira nodded, understanding. She could imagine how a girl who'd seen real horrors in her life wouldn't hesitate to talk to a boy who was merely disfigured.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Moira.

Raven squirmed.

"I didn't know if you'd approve," she said, "So I figured I'd try to cut my losses by not having you directly disapprove."

"Well, I do approve," Moira said, shaking her head, "And Charles will too. You should have told us though."

"Yeah…well…" mumbled Raven.

She trailed off and cocked her head at Moira.

"But if you didn't come to yell at me about Rahne, why are you here?"

Moira opened her mouth, trying to figure out what to say, only to have Norton hurry down the hall.

"Your tests are ready," he said.

Raven turned to Moira, her eyes wide. She knew that she'd been sick lately and was probably putting the pieces together in her head. Raven was intelligent enough to figure it out. Moira shook her head and put a finger to her lips before following him down the hall. Raven grinned and hurried in the opposite direction.

Thoughts of her sister-in-law soon left her mind as she followed Norton. She stepped into his office, nodding at Katherine who was still in the waiting room. They waited for a few minutes before a nurse came in and handed Norton an envelope. The nurse left and he read it, scanning over the text.

He looked up and smiled. Moira felt her heart leap.

"Congratulations," he said.

Moira got up and hugged him. He blinked at her, surprised. She left the room and hugged Katherine, laughing and crying at once. When she had calmed down sufficiently she went to the lobby where, to her surprise, Raven was waiting with Rahne. Rahne immediately smiled at her mother and Moira looked at Raven.

"Your shift over?" she asked.

"…yes," Raven said.

She frowned as the doors to the hospital opened. Charles stepped in, looking somewhat frantic. His eyes scanned Moira and Rahne before his eyebrows creased.

"Raven, you said there was an emergency," he said.

Moira pursed her lips and looked at her sister-in-law. Raven smiled sheepishly and then looked back at Charles.

"Sort of. Figured you'd get here fast if I said that," Raven said, "Nothing's wrong…but it makes a lot of sense."

"What are you talking about?" asked Charles.

Raven turned back to Moira.

"I just figured…you know," she said.

"I do know," Moira said, smiling and shaking her head, "But next time let me decide, okay?"

Raven nodded, looking more excited than embarressed.

"Could someone please tell me what's happening before I have to read everyone's minds?" Charles demanded.

Moira walked up and cupped his face with her hands.

"Charles," she said, smiling, "I just found out I'm pregnant."

His mouth opened and his hands gripped her sides.

"You…you're sure?" he asked.

"Positive," Moira said.

He smiled at her, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. A squeal interrupted their moment and they turned to see Rahne bouncing up and down on her feet.

"I'm gonna have a brother!" she cried.

"We don't know if it's going to be a boy," Moira laughed.

Rahne shook her head, her pigtails whipping around her.

"I've waited too long for a brother not to get one!" Rahne said.

Charles laughed. Rahne rushed forward and hugged Moira around her legs, still squealing. The lobby was empty, otherwise there would have been quite the crowd drawn by Rahne's squeals. Charles ruffled her hair before taking one of her hands. Moira took the other and they walked out of the lobby, a family with more on the way.


	19. Chapter 19

January 18, 1960

"Hah! Now you're trapped!"

Doug shook his head triumphantly. He leaned over and flipped over his 'get out of jail free' card. Rahne let out a moan.

"How come you always pick up those cards?" Rahne pouted.

He smiled at her, nudging his shoe piece out of the jail square and onto the next one. Rahne continued to pout. He'd been playing 'Monopoly' with Rahne for hours. Neither of them were very good at it, so it generally took a long time to finish a game. That was fine with Doug. The longer she stayed the better.

"I'm lucky," he said.

Doug leaned back and pain flared up in his arm, belying what he said. He closed his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't. It didn't take much for the images of men with scissors and scalpels leaning over him to come back. He began to shudder, trying to shake the images out of his head.

"You okay?"

He opened his eyes and looked over at Rahne. Doug smiled weakly. She was concerned, but he was fine with concern. As long as she didn't look at him like she thought he'd die at any second he was fine. Most of the doctors, nurses, and volunteers, even Rahne's aunt, looked at him like that. Dr. Hudson didn't, but she was the exception.

They all thought he was lucky to make it as long as he had. He certainly knew the odds were against him. He remembered the days in his hospital cot, struggling to breathe as the children around him slowly slipped into unconsciousness. He'd been terrified then, but not as terrified as he'd been when he was in the labs. At least death was certain in the hospital. In those labs he'd learned that death wasn't that scary in comparison to other possibilities.

Some of the nurses and doctors were scared of him. It had confused him until he'd been struck by inspiration. He had a lot of time to think, so it didn't take too long. Something had been done to him and they weren't sure what. They couldn't find out without digging into him and damaging him even more. So they'd let him stay and treated him, the strange child that had been experimented on.

Next to him Rahne put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm good," he said.

She looked at him, her frown deepening.

"No," she said, "You're not."

He didn't answer.

"Aunt Raven told me you're sick," she said, "But…that's not true, is it? Not really."

He winced. Perhaps the lie had been her aunt's way of trying not to let her niece know that her friend could die at any time.

"You can tell me, if you want," Rahne said, "You don't have to, but you can. I can handle it. I won't be scared."

Doug swallowed. He hadn't even thought of that possibility. If she heard what had happened to him then, no matter what she said, she'd be scared. She'd have nightmares. Her parents wouldn't let her come anymore, or maybe she'd ask not to have to go back. Either way the idea was terrible. Doug wanted her to come back. He didn't want to be alone in the hospital without his friend. He didn't have anyone else.

At the same time he knew he couldn't let her keep on thinking he just had a flu or something. He looked at Rahne's hand and swallowed. Maybe she should know. At least then she wouldn't be surprised. He couldn't let her go on thinking that the strange part of him was just part of his mutations.

"Rahne," he said, his voice thick, "I like words."

Rahne blinked at him.

"I always have," he continued, "They're fun. I started reading when I was three. My parents really liked that. And then...two years ago I started speaking in French."

He looked down.

"I'd never studied French," he said, "All I had to do was listen to a language to pick it up. My parents kept getting more and more excited. I just…I just liked words."

Doug swallowed.

"And then I started talking to the TV," he said, "My parents thought I was being funny, but I couldn't believe that they didn't hear it. It seemed so obvious."

He looked over at the TV in the corner of the room. With a few muttered words he turned it on and then off again. Rahne took a deep breath. She looked at him with wide eyes. Despite his situation, and the fact that he didn't like where his story was going, he felt proud. His power had impressed someone.

"I could get it to turn on or off, to change the channel," Doug said, "Just by talking to it. It's not hard."

He closed his eyes. That had been the beginning of the bad time.

"My parents…they didn't like it and they started to get scared," he said, "They told me not to use it. And then-"

"Did they hurt you?"

Doug opened his eyes. Rahne was looking at him fiercely, something protective in her gaze. Her eyes glinted amber and her lips were pulled back to show her fangs. Doug was surprised. He'd seen her turn into a wolf before, but it hadn't been like this. He shook his head, trying to figure out what happened.

"No," Doug said.

Rahne's features relaxed and she squeezed his hand, his blackened hand. She never ceased to surprise him.

"Okay," she said.

Still feeling strange he took another deep breath. It was going to get hard now.

"Some people came to my house," he said, "And they…they had guns and…my parents…I was upstairs…"

He started crying. Rahne got up and sat on the edge of his bed. He held her hand tighter and wiped his tears away furiously.

"Doug," she said, her voice gentle, "You don't have to tell me."

"I need to though," Doug said, "Everyone else knows, but you're my only friend. You need to know."

Rahne didn't say anything and he took it as permission to go on.

"They killed my parents," he managed, "And then they took me far away. No one told me what was happening. For a while they just had me locked up, but then there was this man in this white lab coat and…they started doing surgeries."

Rahne's eyes grew bigger.

"And I was in this lab with...there was someone else," Doug said, "It looked like this gloppy black tissue but it had eyes Rahne, it had eyes. And it was scared."

He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He didn't want to see those eyes again.

"I don't know what they did to my arm," Doug said.

He took his free hand and touched the side of his face that was black. It felt crinkly beneath his touch, crinkly and cold.

"Or my face," he managed, "but…but it really hurt. And there were more than one time with the knives… and I was so cold, all the time."

He was still cold. They had to keep the heat up in his room for him to be comfortable.

"And the other person was gone and I know that they... they took it and they took my arm and..."

Doug couldn't finish. He turned his head away.

"And they kept returning me to this dark room," Doug said, his words coming out in a rush, "And there were other children too and they kept crying. And then these people came and took me here."

Doug stopped. His story was over. He breathed out and looked over at Rahne. She was staring at him with an expression that was difficult to read. Rahne didn't look scared, but he couldn't be certain. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. He hadn't gone through everything just to chase away his only friend.

"One story deserves another," Rahne said.

He blinked at her and Rahne swallowed.

"You've met my mom," she said, her voice steady, "I love her a lot. And you've met my dad. I love him too. And I'm gonna have a baby brother in a few months. I love him already."

She looked down.

"They're not my first parents."

The words slammed into his mind. He'd seen the three of them together during Rahne's visits. They looked like a family, like her real parents. He didn't understand.

"The people who…gave birth to me," Rahne said, her voice slow and ponderous, "I don't know really. I don't know my…my birth mother. That's what they call it, I think. I'm not really sure. But…I knew my birth father."

She took a deep breath.

"I was in an orphanage that he ran," Rahne said, "But he never let anyone see me. He kept me away from the other children. He was really mean to me. He hit me. A lot. Especially if I went around like a wolf. He said I was a demon and God hated me and he had to keep hurting me because of it."

Doug felt angry. No one should harm Rahne. She was his friend, the friend who wasn't scared of him and refused to be driven away by his lack of responses.

"And I'd look through the floorboards and wonder what I'd done," she said, "But when I did that I saw the other kids. And they were reading a story about Jesus and God. It was about the children getting blessed. Do you know it?"

He nodded.

"And then I thought, he's wrong," Rahne said, "That man who says he's my father is wrong. God loves children so he'd love me. Jesus let **all** the little children come up. Not just some of them. And I knew then that there was someone that loved me."

She looked at him, her face a picture of calm. All of her earlier nervousness seemed to have melted away.

"So I started praying like the other kids did," Rahne said, "But every time he caught me doing it he'd hit me again. So I started doing it in my head. And I kept listening to the floorboards. And then I heard that God's a father, and because of that he loves all his children no matter who they are."

Rahne's jaw set.

"And that's when I realized that man wasn't my father, not really," she said, "He'd love me if he was, like God loves his children, but he didn't. I figured out that he was a liar and mean and I needed to get away."

She cocked her head.

"I was four," she said, "Not quite five."

"You were brave," he said.

"I was stupid," Rahne said, her voice flat, "I was five and outside for the first time. I ran out of food really fast."

"But you're okay now," said Doug.

"A nice woman started leaving food and clothes for me," said Rahne, "I'd come in every now and then. But I was too scared to stay. And then there was a big snow storm."

She shuddered.

"I got lost in the snow trying to get to her house," she said, "I thought I'd freeze to death and I was really scared. But then…"

Doug waited with bated breath.

"…the nice woman found me," Rahne said, "She'd been looking. She was worried. And she took me home and she made sure I was warm. She said her name was Moira. And then I got the courage to ask to stay."

Rahne smiled at the memory.

"She said yes," Rahne said, "She kept me and that's when I knew she was my mother. My real one."

Doug thought back to the auburn-haired woman that he'd seen with Rahne. If he tried hard he could picture her carrying Rahne through the snow to safety.

"And then she married Charles. When I had to come here and I was alone, he helped look after me," Rahne said, "And he loves me and my mother. He's my real father. I don't care what anyone says. And now I'm going to have a little brother."

She stopped and licked her lips.

"I never told anyone that," Rahne said, "I didn't want to think about it."

"Then why did you tell me?" asked Doug.

She cocked her head.

"You told me your story," she whispered, "and you didn't want to. We can't tell our stories to adults…it's not right. They'll know then, and I don't want them to know. I can't say why...but I don't want them too."

She shook her head.

"But it's okay. You're on Genosha now."

Doug took a sobbing breath. Rahne smiled, the expression full of reassurance.

"It's hard, but sometimes there are good endings waiting for us," Rahne said, "These people, that do the bad things, we can fight them."

He looked up at her questioningly.

"By living," Rahne said, "They didn't want us to live. They didn't want us to be happy. I have my family and I'm happy. I'm sure you'll be happy when you get better."

"But I won't," Doug said, crying again.

Rahne shook her head.

"You will," she said, "You'll come to school with me and make lots of friends. And on Genosha looking different doesn't matter."

He didn't say anything, just looked down.

"You'll get better," Rahne repeated, "You'll be happy."

Doug looked up, feeling determined. He still didn't know if he could win, but he had to believe he could.

"I will," he said.


	20. Chapter 20

February 17, 1960

"You know," Moira said, putting her hands on her hips, "I think green really does look good on the walls. If we get it pale enough then it should be perfect."

Charles nodded. He withdrew from Moira's mind and the walls of the room went back to their original color. Moira's mind was familiar to him, so his range of tricks was rather extensive. Seeing what she was seeing was the flip side of the equation, and he held the image in his head for a minute before letting it go.

"I think I preferred the cream," he said.

"No need to rush into a decision," Moira said.

She put a hand on her swollen stomach. The swell was more than visible under the maternity dress she was wearing. At seven months along she was quite big.

"We're not going to need the nursery just yet," said Moira.

Charles stood behind her, placing his hands over hers. Beneath his palm he could feel the baby kicking, each motion thumping hard against the wall of her stomach. Although he knew it caused his wife nausea, it also meant that the child was well and strong. Moira had said that if that was the case then thier baby was going to be strong enough to take down an army when he was born.

Despite himself he rather liked the thought.

"We're going to need it soon enough," Charles murmured.

Moira smiled, tilting her head back so she could kiss him.

"In time," she said, "We've just got to make a decision on the walls and then it's just a matter of you moving in the furniture."

She smiled.

"Although I still think green would be better," she said, "We'll get Rahne's opinion on it when she comes back from the hospital."

"I think she's there more than school sometimes," said Charles, "Not sure it's healthy being there, but well-"

"She's got a friend," Moira said.

He nodded.

"Exactly," he said.

Moira began rubbing her stomach.

"It's just that between the hospital, school, and the palace…well…" Moira said, "I just don't see her as much as I used to."

Her voice took on a wistful tone. Charles put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said, "We'll do something this weekend. Besides, Lorna's busy too. She's getting extra lessons from Erik about controlling her mutation."

"And you," Moira said.

"And me," said Charles, "She shows quite a bit of potential really."

"Potential," sighed Moira, "You're talking like you're scouting out new recruits for the X-men Charles."

"Of course I'm not," Charles said, "She can't be an X-man. She's going to be Queen when she gets older."

His wife inclined her head towards him.

"I don't think I've forgotten," Moira said.

"I'm just saying it's going to be a useful skill," said Charles.

"Like the kids in the Acolyte program?" asked Moira.

Charles winced. He'd never shared his full discomfort about the program with anyone other than Erik and Moira. He had to admit that it was yielding good results, and that made it all the harder to swallow. So much of what had been done in Genosha had been compromise, but those had worked. He'd continue to compromise if that was what it took.

"I suppose so," he said.

Moira caught onto his tone and turned in his arms. The motion was a little unwieldy because of her stomach, but she cupped his face and pulled it down.

"Hey, it's okay," Moira said, "As long as they don't actually go into combat until they're older, they're okay. It's just like JROTC."

He kept telling himself that. He still didn't quite believe it. Shoving the thought down he swallowed and changed the topic.

"Besides, it'll get her into school faster," he said, "The sooner the better."

Moira nodded and sighed. They both knew how difficult it was to socialize without contact. There were other ways, but if something as simple as school was out of the question in Erik's mind than youth groups were definitely out of bounds. Charles wondered at Erik's obstinacy, but at the same time admired Susanna's ability to talk him down. If, of course, that was what had happened.

His wife winced as the baby kicked again.

"I think I'm going to have to sit down for a minute," she said, "The room is starting to look blurry."

Charles took her hand and guided her to a chair in their room. She gave a dry smile before sitting down.

"I'm not made of glass you know," she said, giving him a dry look, "I can sit down by myself. I've been doing it all my life."

In response he knelt down next to her and put a hand on her stomach. It reassured him in a way that he couldn't quite explain.

"I know," he said, "I know…it's just…"

Charles smiled.

"I'm still taking this in," he said, "It's very…"

He searched for words.

"It seems very surreal at times," he said, "Part of me feels too young to be having a child biologically, but then I have to keep reminding myself how old I am."

"Enjoy it while the first number's under five," Moira said.

Charles laughed.

"Erik told me it's a natural feeling but…oh, I don't know," he said, "I already knew I was getting Rahne when I married you."

"So?" asked Moira.

"So, there was no real surprise about it," he said.

"And the idea of a baby comes as such a surprise?" asked Moira, "It really shouldn't have. For either of us."

Her words were pointed and Charles laughed again.

"Alright, alright," he said, "But still…"

Moira nodded.

"I understand."

They sat for a moment before Moira began to get up. Charles got up to assist her, and this time she did take his hand. Getting up was harder than sitting down.

"Speaking of children," Moira said, "It's almost time for us to pick up Rahne."

* * *

"You're doing great!"

Doug looked up, sweat pouring from his face. Raven gripped his hand as he took a few steps. Dr. Hudson had his other hand, giving Raven a few looks. They had to know when to have him stop. He didn't show too many signs of slowing though. Rahne stood on the other end of the room, clapping her hands and cheering. Raven was sure that was doing wonders for her friend's first attempt to walk in months.

He took one more step, his gnarled black hand digging into Raven's skin. She had to bite her lip to keep from making a noise. With a few more steps he managed to make it to the other end of the room. Seconds before collapsing Dr. Hudson scooped him up, taking him back to the bed. Rahne trotted over, still clapping and whistling.

"Awesome Doug, awesome!" Rahne said.

Doug managed a weak smile. He looked over at Dr. Hudson, who returned the gesture.

"You're getting much better Doug," she said, "We're going to be doing this daily from now on, okay?"

For a minute Raven saw apprehension flicker in his face. Dr. Hudson continued on cheerfully though, her voice oozing confidence.

"You can do it though, I know you can."

She squeezed Doug's hand and his smile broadened. Raven stood off to the side, feeling a smile on her own face. It was hard not to be cheerful. He was making good progress. From what she'd heard Doug could be released in under a year. It was more than the other children he'd been with would be able to say.

Dr. Hudson put his IV's back in, each motion careful. She'd been his doctor since the beginning, and had grown quite close to the boy. Raven knew that Doug was distrustful of most of the doctors, she couldn't blame him for that after what he'd been through, but Dr. Hudson was the exception.

Rahne climbed up into a chair next to him and leaned on his bed rail.

"It's good you can walk again, 'cause the school's big," Rahne said, "Real big. There are different floors and there's this really big staircase."

She leaned in and whispered;

"Wanda and I used to slide down it, even though dad told us not to. It was great."

Raven smiled and leaned against the doorway. Footsteps outside the door made her turn around. There was a soft sound just as she turned her head. No one was in the hallway and she frowned, turning the other way. A cloud of black smoke made her shriek and take a step back. A few seconds later Azazel materialized, laughing.

"That's not funny!" Raven protested.

Doug and Rahne laughed. Even Dr. Hudson hid a giggle behind her hand.

"Ah, you know it is funny devochka," Azazel said, "If children say it is funny, then it is funny. End of story."

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. In the past few months since she'd seen him in the waiting room Raven had gotten to know Azazel quite well. He'd come to check up on Doug and report back to the Hellions. He'd been friends with Dr. Hudson, so he'd found himself there quite a bit. It hadn't taken him long to find out about Rahne's friendship with Doug.

"Ah, you are still mad?" Azazel asked.

Raven tilted her head back. She quite liked Azazel, even when he vacillated between child-like curiosity and ancient sobriety. He was still quite young, but had already mentored and trained two of the most respected members of the X-men. She didn't know how Emma saw him, but she knew that Clarice saw him as a father-figure. He had so many layers, so many things about him that she couldn't quite place.

As such she always looked forward to his visits.

"Don't I look mad?" Raven demanded.

Azazel narrowed his eyes in concentration.

"More like teacher who discovers worm in apple," he said.

Rahne and Doug began laughing again. Dr. Hudson looked merely amused. Raven rolled her eyes.

"Ah, wrong thing to say. I can tell," Azazel said, "You would be student who gave wormy apple. Nyet old enough for teatcher. I can see this."

Raven bristled at the reference to her age.

"I turned seventeen last month," she said.

"Da, and I turn twenty three two months before that," Azazel said, "What of it?"

For some reason his words further irritated her.

"I'm not a child," said Raven.

She could say that now. For so many years she'd said that to Charles, trying to get him to recognize her as something other than his baby sister. Now it was finally true. Of all people Azazel should know that. He'd taught her how to fight to some extent, even if she was getting to know him just then, and he'd seen her at the hospital. He should acknowledge it.

Instead Azazel shrugged, looking indifferent. Raven felt the urge to throw something at him and then throttle him. Repeatedly.

"Are they still joking?"

As one Raven and Azazel turned. She blushed as she saw the inquiring gazes of Doug, Rahne, and Dr. Hudson. Raven hated doing that, it turned her face an unflattering shade of purple, but she had good reason. She'd forgotten that they had an audience, and one that mainly consisted of young children at that. Azazel glanced over at her, a question in his gaze. She gave him a small nod.

"Da," Azazel said, "Is it nyet funny?"

"Not as funny as before," Rahne said.

"Well, I will have to do something else then," Azazel said, "Like tell another story. I have a good one about princess and dragon."

Rahne sniffed dismissively.

"The princesses are always weak," Rahne said.

"Of course daughter of Prime Minister would say that," Azazel said, "So in this story we shall have princess be dragonslayer."

Rahne's face brightened but Doug frowned.

"I can't see any princess doing that in those big dresses and glass slippers," Doug said.

Azazel tapped his chin and then jerked his head at Raven.

"Then just imagine Raven as princess," he said, "She would not let that get in the way, now would she?"

Raven blushed even as Doug shook his head.

"Of course nyet!" Azazel said, sitting down in a chair.

He looked behind him and winked at Raven before turning back to Doug.

"After all," he said, "She is **seventeen**."

Raven rolled her eyes before pulling up a chair. His stories, if not his jokes, were always amusing.


	21. Chapter 21

April 22, 1960

"How's the baby coming along?" asked Susanna.

Moira smiled and put a hand on her stomach. She found herself doing that a lot recently. Then again, her stomach had grown so big that it was hard to do anything but that.

"Fine," Moira said, "Not so much morning sickness after the first few months."

Her stomach had started lurching that morning, but there weren't any real waves of nausea. The baby wasn't due for a week or so though, so she figured she was fine.

"You're lucky," Susanna said, "I was sick almost all the time with Lorna. It was a very easy delivery though."

She smiled fondly over to where their daughters were playing. Rahne was braiding Lorna's hair, her face a picture of concentration.

"It was so fast that I thought Erik would miss it," Susanna said.

Her voice sounded wistful. Moira frowned. Something about Susanna seemed a little off over the past few months. She couldn't quite place it, and every time she tried to ask Susanna she deflected the question with ease. Moira could only assume that for some reason or another she didn't want to talk about it.

Her friend brightened and turned back to her.

"Do you have any names yet?" she asked.

"I thought that Rose would be nice if it's a girl," Moira said, "But I wanted to name the baby Charles if it's a boy."

Sonogram technology hadn't come to Genosha yet. In many ways their medicine was advanced, but certain 'luxury' machines like sonograms hadn't been imported. The funds just didn't exist for it. As such the gender of her next child would be a mystery. She shook her head and sighed.

"But Charles is dead-set against it," Moira said, "So we compromised and figured it'd be the child's middle name if it's a boy. I can't believe how particular he was about that."

"You should've seen Erik's face when I suggested naming the baby after him if it was a boy," Susanna said, "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"I guess it's a guy thing," Moira said.

Susanna grinned.

"We've got the nursery all ready," Moira said, "Kayla had a mobile with crystals in it made by Clarice. Laura really likes it so we asked Clarice if she could do another one. She did, and we had it set up the other week."

"What color did you do the walls?" asked Susanna.

"We decided on cream over green," Moira said, "And we got some yellow gingham sheets and things. Rahne picked them out."

"She won't stop talking about her baby brother," Susanna said, "Lorna's excited too. I think they think they're going to be able to use the baby for tea parties."

"Or to play house," Moira said.

She shook her head.

"She's just so confident it's a boy," Moira said.

"I'm sure she'll love it just as much if it's a girl," Susanna said.

"I'm sure she will too," Moira said, "I'm glad she's embracing the idea of having another sibling so easily."

"It looks like everything's falling into place then," Susanna said, her voice bright.

"Yeah," Moira said, looking over to Rahne, "Yeah, it does."

* * *

"The next session of parliament is in a month," Charles said, looking down at the papers scattered around him, "And it seems like the new laws to on tariffs are going to pass. It won't be very popular with the shipping companies, but there's no way to avoid that."

"Unless we want to keep our trade imbalance," Erik said, his voice dry.

Charles nodded and shuffled the paperwork. He sighed when he saw a report that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"There was another anti-sapien protest down by the coast," Charles said.

Ever since the children had been brought from the MRD facility the island had gone into shock. There had been a few weeks where the horror of the citizens overcame their thirst for vengeance. Once six of the seven children died despite receiving the best medical care there had been scattered protests against sapiens throughout the nation. In recent weeks it had picked up enough to give Charles a headache.

"Oh?" asked Erik.

His voice sounded far too amused. Charles gave him a harsh look before continuing to read the report.

"It was quelled before there was any violence though," Charles said, "We really need to do something about these."

"Such as what?" asked Erik, "Ban them?"

"It doesn't fall under freedom of speech when they're simply spouting racist rubbish," Charles said, "It's inflammatory. Like shouting fire in a crowded theater."

"You need to stop referring back to the American Bill of Rights," Erik said, "We have our own one, and I think it's done very well."

"It has, but the example is still a good one," Charles said.

His friend's expression didn't waver. Charles let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's just not good," he said, "You must be able to see this Erik. The consequences of allowing this sort of thing to go unchecked are just too dire to allow."

"So what, we release another statement about unity?" asked Erik, "This recent protest just seems to show that the other statements didn't work."

"Unless you're willing to put something through parliament, then yes, that's what we'll have to do," Charles said, "I would like to put some actions behind the words, and sending the X-men to break up the riots doesn't seem to be making a strong enough impression. Do you have any ideas Erik?"

Erik cocked his head.

"A few. But I doubt you'll like any of them."

Charles shook his head.

"You know that I don't like your militant approach for domestic matters," Charles said, feeling like he was repeating an old conversation, "You know that I'm a pacifist."

"A pacifist who fought a revolution," Erik pointed out.

Charles narrowed his eyes.

"There are times for war and times for peace," he said, "This is a time for peace."

"Of course, of course," Erik said, putting his hands up in the air, "I don't want to see our fair island torn apart by another war."

His words were lofty and Charles knew that, to some degree, he was being mocked. Erik's voice was far too high. Charles rolled his eyes and Erik chuckled.

"It's what you sound like sometimes," Erik said.

"I do **not**," Charles said.

Erik chuckled again and Charles allowed himself to smile.

"Alright, alright," Charles said, "Point given."

"I already knew I had it," Erik said.

Charles was ready with another comeback when the door opened. Moira walked in, smiling, but looking slightly strained. He frowned. These were private consultations between him and Erik. He was surprised that Moira felt the need to interrupt them, but even more so that Arthur and Dominikos would let her in. They respected her, but they knew that they weren't supposed to be disturbed.

"Love?" he said.

"Sorry for barging in like this," Moira said, "But we need to go."

Charles blinked. Across from him he could see Erik's eyebrow furrow.

"Moira, we're nearly done. If you give us another hour or two-" Charles began.

"I'm having the baby Charles," Moira interrupted, "Now."

There was a fraction of a second when everything clicked. He got up immediately, nearly knocking down his chair in his haste.

"I'll see you later Erik," he said, already hurrying away from the table, "Just sign what we said and it'll be fine."

Erik made a hurrying gesture with his hand, grinning. Charles looped an arm around Moira's shoulder and they walked out of the room. His brain was running on bare essentials at the moment. He just managed to notice that Arthur and Dominkos nodded to them, their eyes wide. It certainly explained how she'd managed to get into the room in the first place.

"I'm going to need to get the car-" he started.

"Susanna already sent for it," Moira said, "Rahne should be in it. I told her it would take a long time, but she seems to want to come anyway."

She winced and put a hand on her stomach.

"This is really starting to hurt," she said.

"I'll get you there soon, alright?" Charles said, his voice on the edge of panic, "I know a few shortcuts we can take."

Moira smiled.

"You seem very excited," she said.

"And you seem very calm," Charles shot back.

"I'm saving it for the delivery when I feel my insides ripping themselves open," Moira said tersely, "Now, let's hurry along."

Charles nodded. True to her word the car was around front. He got into the driver's seat, trying to calm down. Rahne was in the back, her eyes bright.

"So, in a few hours I get a brother?" asked Rahne.

"Or a sister," Moira said.

Charles pulled out and got onto the road.

"Dad?" asked Rahne.

"Yes?" Charles replied, feeling on edge.

"Mom said that I shouldn't be in the room when the baby comes," she said, "Am I not allowed to see the stork or something?"

He glanced back at her. No, not now.

"Um…sort of," Charles said.

"We'll explain when you're older," Moira sighed.

* * *

Moira was sure that she'd never been in more pain in her life than she was in at the moment. Everything felt like it was on fire, a pulsating fire that was ripping her open. She had known that it was going to be painful. She'd been prepared for that to some extent. What she hadn't been prepared for was the sheer exhaustion of it all.

Sweat soaked her forehead and arms. Her hair felt like wet coils of rope. All of her muscles screamed from exhaustion. Her heart pounded in time with the monitors and the doctors and nurses fluttered around. Charles was by her side, murmuring things and wiping her forehead every now and then.

She knew that it was a blessing that he was there. Most fathers weren't allowed in the delivery rooms. However, being a Prime Minister had its privileges. Personally knowing one of the head doctors ensured that the paparazzi were kept outside of the building. Norton had done a good job at keeping them far away. It was a good thing. In her current state of mind she probably would've killed them one if she'd seen one.

Raven had been in briefly to deliver flowers and give her best wishes, but she'd seen how crowded the room already was. She'd left shortly after to look after Rahne. Moira knew that Rahne wasn't old enough to see her in her current condition. She'd been there for the first few hours, but no longer. Raven had told her that she'd taken her to sit with Doug so she could play games and chat about the new sibling she was getting.

"You're almost there," Norton said, "We need you to keep pushing now."

She nodded and forced herself to push. Everything hurt now and she closed her eyes. It was all confusing enough without the myriad of images around her.

"Again," Norton said, "Just one more time. Just one more hard push, okay?"

Moira nodded again, feeling ready to cry.

"You're doing great love," Charles said.

Refraining from biting her lip Moira strained and gave one last push. It seemed to go on for eternity before she heard the wail of a child. She looked up, feeling exhausted. She barely glimpsed the child before a nurse took it away to be cleaned. Everything seemed to be fine. Moira tilted her head to the side so she could see Charles. He smiled at her.

"One more push for the afterbirth, okay?" Norton said, his voice soothing.

Moira nodded and strained her muscles again. When it was over she allowed herself to relax, breathing deeply. Charles' cool hand touched her face and she opened her eyes.

"You did it," he said, "Have I told you that you're amazing?"

"Not recently enough for a fourteen hour labor," Moira said.

He laughed and kissed her forehead. Just as he drew away a nurse came up, a bundle in her arms. Moira sat up and swallowed.

"Your son," the nurse said, putting it in her arms.

Charles leaned over, putting one arm around her shoulders. The other hand was placed gently on their son's head.

"He's perfect," Moira said, "Just perfect."

Charles smiled and kissed her on the forehead again.

"Looks like Rahne has her brother," he said.

Moira laughed and looked down at their son.

"What do you think about the name David?" she said.

Charles beamed.

"I think it's a wonderful name," he said.

* * *

_**A/N: **And it's David! I doubt any of you are surprised though. I actually had people asking at the end of 'The World Turned Upside Down' if David was going to be in the next story. ;)_


	22. Chapter 22

April 29, 1960

"Congratulations Xavier!"

Charles turned and waved at one of his aides. He'd been hearing well-wishes and congratulations about his son ever since he'd stepped into the building. It was his first day back after Moira had given birth and he was touched by how many people gave him such congratulations. He was even more surprised by the amount that used David's name, but he'd had time to get used to the press publishing things about his life.

Taking a week off of work had been extravagant, but he wasn't about to leave Moira alone to deal with their son. David was fussy and she needed help. He was too young to go into a nursery yet, or at least Moira believed so. They'd made arrangements for him in the coming weeks, but for now he was staying with them.

It wasn't as though he could ask anyone to come in. They didn't keep servants, it reminded him too much of his own lonely childhood, looked after only by the staff. He didn't want that. Raven and Rahne had school and the hospital; he really couldn't impose. Besides, Rahne was far too young to be doing much more than holding and playing with David. She was enchanted with her little brother, and Charles had caught glimpses of her showing him off to anyone who happened to be in the house.

On another, more selfish level, he wanted a few days to get used to his son's presence in his life. It felt like it had with Rahne, only it was a little more like a fair playing field. The two of them would grow to get used to each other, each learning about the other in time. With Rahne he'd felt a little like he'd been given the test before the course. The test yielded good results, but it was a little less overwhelming when he took the course first.

Still, it was back to work. Moira would stay with David for another week before she returned. He have to thank Susanna for pushing Erik to install those new maternity leave laws. Moira had been exhausted enough after the birth without having to worry about her job. Now she had some time off, and he was grateful for the respite.

Smiling to himself he opened the door to his office. Charles cracked his neck and sat down at his desk. The familiar reports were scattered around, as well as a few cards of congratulations in his inbox. It reminded him of the cards that he'd gotten when he'd announced his wedding. Charles put them to one side to bring home later.

He began going through his papers, signing forms and reading current events. He'd be meeting with Erik the next day to discuss policy. It would be the first time he'd seen his friend since the baptism. He'd chosen the day after his son's birth to announce that Erik was going to be David's godfather. His expression had been priceless, an expression which had carried over into the baptism.

The door opened and Clarice walked in. He looked up at her, cocking his head. She'd been hired as one of his aides after the completion of her political science degree. She was still working on her law degree, and he had the feeling that she'd be a colleague of his again soon. For right now she was starting out on the bottom rung.

She smiled brightly, handing him his folder of briefs for the morning.

"I heard about David," she said, "Congratulations."

Despite himself he smiled.

"Thank you," he said, "We're very proud. Moira's under the impression he looks like me, but I'm quite certain my eyes aren't brown."

Clarice grinned as he began flipping through the folder.

"So," he said, not looking up, "what did I miss around the office?"

"Well, the Crockers are planning a vacation in a few weeks," Clarice said, "which means we're going to have a few less people in the PR department. They need permission, of course."

Charles nodded.

"As long as there isn't a scandal next week than I think we can spare them," he said.

He flipped through the papers again, his eyes focusing on teh last brief. Charles frowned and read the paper. His eyes widened before narrowing at the end.

"I want you to get me a car to the palace," he said, "As soon as possible."

"But, your meeting's tomorrow-" Clarice started.

"Now!"

* * *

"You've got to be careful," Susanna said, correcting her daughter's hands, "The stems are more fragile than you'd think."

Lorna frowned in concentration, slowly weaving the roses around each other to form a supple wall. Susanna smiled and looked up. Neena, their familiar shadow, was watching with interest. Susanna even thought that she'd seen her eyes following the pattern that the flower stems were making.

It was hard not to be impressed by Lorna's efforts. Her daughter was gaining quite the green thumb.

"And that's how you make a flower crown, or wreath as the case may be," Susanna said, "You can, of course, put extra flowers between the stems."

She plucked a rose from the table, snipping the stem in half. With great care she intertwined it with the other stems.

"I'll do that," Lorna declared.

Lorna reached for the scissors and began cutting blossoms. Susanna turned back to her pruning, having a care to watch Lorna out of the corner of her eye. Although her daughter was almost eleven, it was easy to forget that. Sometimes she still saw the little toddler begging to be picked up. She supposed it was something all mothers saw. While everything changed they could still see things as they used to be.

Susanna cut off a branch and bit her lip. Gardening gave her time to think, and the thoughts that came into her mind weren't always the best. There hadn't been a repeat of the incident with Erik. She'd never felt that chilly feeling in her mind. However, part of her was having a hard time forgetting that she'd been afraid of her own husband.

She knew that, in time, she would push the memory away from her completely. It would be nothing more than a faded memory in the back of her mind. Susanna was good at forgiving and moving on without every acknowledging to the other party that she'd been hurt. Part of her knew that it was a weakness, but in this case it was better that way. He should never have to know that she'd feared him, however fleeting the feeling had been.

However, this was hard to shake. Erik had been harsh in the past, but she'd never been scared. She'd been scared **for **him, but that was different. When he'd shown her his powers she'd been more surprised than anything. Not even when she'd seen him rip apart an attack squad of MRD men had she been frightened of him. Frightened of what he could do, yes. Never of him though. Being afraid of him was something new, something she wished she could purge from her mind. Susanna didn't want that kind of emotion intruding on her.

"Mom!"

She turned to see that Lorna was finished with her crown. She held it up proudly and Susanna gladly banished her previous thoughts.

"You did a great job," Susanna said.

Lorna smiled in delight. She put it on her head, the crown slipping so that it hung crooked on her head. Susanna kneeled and corrected it.

"Thanks," Lorna said.

"Aren't you supposed to be using the front door?"

Susanna turned to see Charles marching through the garden. Neena had stepped in front of him, but he moved around her and continued on.

"I could, yes, but this way is faster," Charles said.

His face was grim and Susanna got to her feet.

"Is something wrong Charles?"

Charles' eyes slid in her direction and he stopped.

"I need to speak to Erik," he said, "Right away."

"He's upstairs in the study with some paperwork," Susanna said, "But what's wrong?"

Charles didn't answer her. Instead he continued on, his stride fast. Neena looked over to Susanna and then back at Charles.

"Should I follow him?" she asked.

"No, just tell security that he's here," Susanna said.

Neena nodded and picked up her walkie-talkie. Lorna looked up at her mother.

"Something up with Uncle Charles?" she asked.

Susanna swallowed, a knot of anxiety building in her stomach.

"I'm not sure," she said.

* * *

"Erik!"

Erik looked up from his desk and raised his eyebrows. Charles stood in the doorway, his breath coming in short pants. He made sure that the door was closed securely behind him. He already had a feeling where this conversation was going, and he didn't want anyone else to be privy to this.

"Something wrong?" Erik asked.

Charles would've laughed if he wasn't so angry.

"I got back to work this morning," he said, "And one of my aides gives me a law that's going to come up for the vote in parliament during the next session. Just a little thing, tucked away in the very back of my morning briefs."

The words clogged in his throat and he could see Erik become wary. Good.

"It's a law that would forbid any human immigration to Genosha, excluding the parents of mutant children or mutants with human children," Charles said, "And it would deport any humans currently residing on Genosha that don't apply to the current terms. Parents of mutants only get to stay until thier children are eighteen."

Erik folded his hands and Charles clenched his fists.

"Now, one of the many, many things about this law that I find reprehensible, "Charles said, "Is that I was not aware of its existence until today."

His eyes narrowed.

"In fact, it was put in two days after my son was born," he said, "When I was out, and the responsibility of clearing it through the committees fell to you."

Erik sighed, a noise tinged by irritation.

"Charles, I know what you're thinking," Erik said, "But it wasn't my intention to go behind your back-"

"Wasn't it?" Charles demanded.

He strode up to Erik's desk and put his hands on the edge of his friend's desk.

"You knew I'd fight it," Charles said, "So you used my son's birth to try to get it to the final stages?"

"Charles-"

"You used my son's birth for this!" Charles shouted, "Your godson! You told me we weren't going to do this, that-"

"That what?" Erik snapped, "We'd do it the peaceful way so we can wait for the MRD to make science experiments out of our children?"

Charles drew back, his heart pounding and his head throbbing in time with it.

"I've had patience with doing it your way," Erik said, "And now my patience has reached its end. People are demanding that we take action, and this time it will be real action."

Charles let go of the desk, feeling the pounding die down to a steady throbbing. This couldn't be happening.

"Erik, no," he said, "Not this way. Not like this."

"It's going up for the vote," Erik said, his voice calm, "And there's quite a bit of anti-sapien sympathy around at the moment, wouldn't you agree? I think it stands a decent chance of getting passed. More than decent really."

Despite the cacophony in his head Charles struggled to stay calm.

"Please," Charles said, "don't give this your support. You…"

He swallowed.

"Four years ago you promised me we wouldn't do this," he said, "That Genosha would be a haven for any who wished to come."

Erik gave him a long look. For a minute a tiny flame of hope flickered inside him.

"Times have changed Charles," he said.

The flame died. Charles looked away, swallowing hard.

"Erik, if not for that promise, than what about Moira? Susanna?" Charles asked.

"You didn't read it all," said Erik, shaking his head, "I'm not surprised. You only got a paragraph and then you came over here. But there are provisions for parents with government jobs. Moira and Susanna fall under that heading. They can stay until the government no longer has use for that position."

He shrugged.

"I don't plan to take away those positions," he said.

"What about David?" Charles asked, his voice plaintive, "What about your godson? What if he's not a mutant?"

Erik breathed out, frustrated.

"He will be."

"You don't know that!" Charles said.

"His father's a mutant. Recent research seems to prove that that's how the gene is passed on," Erik said, "Mutant children manifest before the age of fourteen. He has time."

Charles stared at him.

"Charles, do give me credit," Erik said, "I did think about these things.

Taking a deep breath, feeling the floor fall out from under him.

"You're determined to do this?" he asked.

"I've been determined since the night I heard about the children," Erik said.

Charles rubbed his temples, as though the motion would end the nightmare.

"I don't want divisions," Erik said, "I want a unified Genosha and, as always, I want you with me on this, working with me. It would say a lot if you did."

Charles nodded, feeling the anger clogging his throat again.

"I know what it would say," Charles said, "I know."

He glared back at Erik.

"And I want **you **to know that I'm going to fight this," he said, drawing himself up, "with everything that I have."

"That's not what I want Charles," Erik said.

"It's what you're getting, because it looks like you've already made a choice," said Charles, walking towards the door.

He opened it and paused for a minute, looking over his shoulder.

"If this goes through," he said, "then I will spend my whole life wondering how you can live with yourself."

Charles paused, another thought coming into his mind.

"And how Susanna can live with you."

Without another word he left, slamming the door behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

After the incident with Charles in the garden Susanna expected to be summoned inside. Whenever there was a cataclysmic political shift Erik would tell the bodyguards to hurry Lorna and her inside inside. Even when they were still living in the ramshackle house on the outskirts of West Berlin he'd always wanted them inside when something happened.

At the time she'd thought it was just because of the growing enmity between Russia and the United States. There was a nuclear war to worry about, the only worry that was larger than what they could protect themselves from. It was still a threat in the back of thier minds, but it was so much further away now.

When they first arrived on Genosha she'd assumed it was because of safety, because the MRD had still seemed like a very real threat to her at the time. She'd been hiding from them for so long that being out in the open seemed strange. A little more hiding meant nothing.

Only recently had she realized the true reason for it. It was another tentacle of his paranoia, his constant distrust of the dangers that their position presented. Yet, on a deeper level he needed to see them to know that nothing had happened to them. His dedication to their safety, their continued safety, was both impressive and stifling.

She understood it, even if she didn't agree with it. He'd lost his parents at such a young age, and then been forced to separate from the small family that he'd managed to scrounge up after their loss. His dominant personality, mixed with losing so many people, had resulted in his current desire to know where they were, and if they were safe.

So she'd always obliged when the call came. Secretly she hoped that as time went on he'd see that it wasn't necessary anymore. So far that hadn't happened, so Susanna continued to come. On that afternoon as Lorna ran around with her flower crown, she waited to be called in with a resigned sigh.

Somehow she found it disturbing when they weren't. Normally she would have been overjoyed by the fact that he was learning to let go. Part of her really did want to believe that he had finally learned that they would be fine. Susanna knew that wasn't true though. He hadn't gotten over his fears yet.

She'd also never seen Charles as angry and conflicted as she'd seen him in the garden. It cast a damper over their garden outing. Even Lorna felt it and she kept looking at her mother with a puzzled look. Finally the two of them had gone inside for dinner, only to be greeted by Arthur in the dining room.

Susanna still felt a little uncomfortable around the X-men, even if they were her bodyguards. They rarely came into their private rooms, because that was for them, a family that needed privacy at some point in thier lives. If an X-man was in thier apartments it was to deliver a message.

So she simply stared at Arthur for a few minutes, wondering if he was going to say something. Susanna felt too awkward to start up a conversation. Lorna had no such compunctions. The bodyguards had become a way of life to her daughter, friends in a way.

"Hi Arthur!" Lorna said, her voice cheerful

He grinned.

"Heya princess."

"Where's dad?" she asked.

"His majesty told me to say that he'll be in his office this evening," Arthur said, inclining his head, "He's very busy."

Lorna frowned and Susanna bit her lip.

"Is he coming later?" asked Lorna.

"Sorry princess, but I don't think so," Arthur said.

Susanna moved gently behind Lorna and steered her daughter to her seat.

"You know your father's busy," she said.

"I know," Lorna whispered.

Arthur gave her a nod and left. Her daughter sat glumly through the meal. Susanna steeled herself. Unless Erik had a very good reason about disappointing his daughter she was going to lose her temper. Lorna was already seeing less and less of her father, something Susanna had repeatedly told him he needed to change. Apparently he wasn't listening.

After dinner she escorted her daughter to bed, brushing her hair and tucking her in. Lorna was too old for bedtime stories now, or so she fancied herself. Susanna made sure to kiss her on the forehead and tell her that they'd try to do something together the next day. Lorna had nodded and Susanna had gritted her teeth again.

She returned to her room, expecting to find Erik there so she could unleash a tirade on him. He wasn't, and she prepared herself for bed, getting into the shower and looking at the clock. She'd always waited up for him in the past. She saw no reason to stop, even if her chief goal on this occasion was to make him rue not seeing their daughter that day.

When she came out she saw him sitting on the edge of their bed. All of her anger leeched out when she saw him. He looked tired and frustrated, undercut by anger. Whatever Charles had told him had been bad, very bad indeed. His eyes were facing the floor and Susanna walked over, bracing herself for bad news.

"Erik."

Erik didn't look up as Susanna sat next to him, one hand on his shoulder. She cocked her head and moved her hand to the back of his neck. He'd always found it soothing.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Nothing's wrong."

Susanna sighed. She knew her husband better than that.

"Liar," she said.

The corners of his lips twitched but he didn't look up.

"It appears that Charles and I have…disagreed on an important piece of legislation," Erik said, "Now, instead of being able to count on his support as I have in the past, I'm going to have to fight him every step of the way."

Erik let out a frustrated breath of air.

"Him and Moira," he said, "He'll divide the cabinet and parliament over this."

Susanna felt her throat constrict and she let out a deep breath. There were too many reasons to feel worried at the moment. Her husband and Charles rarely disagreed. She wanted to tell herself that this was a minor incident, but there was too much tension in her husband's face and body for that to be true.

"Why?" she asked.

"It's…complicated," Erik said, rubbing his temples.

She continued to look at him, waiting patiently for an explanation.

"There's not much more I can say about it really."

"You've done this in the past," Susanna said, "But you've always found a compromise, always met each other halfway. Maybe you can-?"

"No. Not this time, not this time" Erik said wryly, "It's not something that we can meet in the middle for."

Susanna frowned.

"Why, what is it?"

Erik hesitated before shaking his head.

"It would take too long," he said.

"I'm all ears," Susanna said.

Erik sighed in frustration. Susanna bit her lip.

"I'm not particularly clever," Susanna said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice, "But…I'm sure I could at least try to understand."

For the first time since the conversation started Erik looked up, his eyes locking with hers. There was something inscrutable in his expression. She felt his eyes scan over her and she wondered what he was seeing. Then, wordlessly, he pulled her to him, cradling her head under his chin.

Surprised Susanna blinked, but she didn't say anything.

"That's not it," he said, "That's not it at all."

"What is it then?" asked Susanna.

His other arm came around her, locking her in place.

"It's not something I can talk about," Erik said, "But...I'm losing my oldest friend over this."

Susanna couldn't help the gasp that came out of her throat. Erik chuckled wryly.

"I know," he said, "I understand why he would oppose it. There are some...morally questionable parts about it I suppose."

She swallowed a lump of panic that began to grow in her throat.

"Is it that important?" she asked, "Do you need to pass it if it risks your friendship and you have doubts?

There was a long pause. At first Susanna wondered if he hadn't heard her.

"Susanna," he said at last, "things have happened since I left you those years ago, things I never even told you about. I've seen horrors when I thought I'd already seen enough for the rest of my life, for anyone's life."

He shuddered.

"I don't want that for our child, for anyone's child," he said, "And I believe that there are such things as necessary evils."

He paused.

"But…you…I…I wouldn't endorse it if I didn't believe that it was the best thing for the future of Genosha. I have no doubts."

Beneath her head his chest hollowed out as he took a deep breath in. Susanna remained quiet, knowing he wasn't finished yet.

"I know that I'm right," he said, "And I was hoping that Charles would see that too, would understand. We built this together after all."

He exhaled, his entire body tensing up.

"Charles won't trust me," Erik said, his voice suddenly harsh, "After everything I think I've earned a little trust."

She put her hand on his chest, measuring his breathing. Susanna waited for a moment before swallowing.

"I understand it's difficult for you to do this," she said, her voice soft, "Neither of us were trained for this. No one educated us for what we're doing now."

Susanna reached out and took his hand. She kissed the back of it, trying to keep her thoughts straight.

"But you've done so well," she said.

Susanna breathed out and tried to marshall her thoughts.

"Erik, we can't let this affect us."

"What?" he demanded.

She winced but refused to remain silent.

"We can't let this affect our families," she said, "You might not be able to work with Charles any more…not at the present anyway...but you'll be friends after this."

"I doubt it," Erik snorted.

Susanna felt a momentary flicker of apprehension. What could be so bad about this that would destroy their friendship? Doubt began to fill her mind. She would have to ask for more information. She was suddenly struck with the feeling that she was walking blindly into the jaws of a lion.

Nonetheless she continued on. She had to if anything was to be salvaged.

"Lorna and Rahne have to be kept out of it," she said, her voice steady, "They've got a sleepover on Saturday. That can't change. And I'll keep being friends with Moira-"

His grip increased.

"-but we won't talk about politics," Susanna murmured, "There has to be separation, I understand. But we can't let this ruin things."

There was a pause, and then she felt Erik give a sharp nod.

"For Lorna," he said.

She looked up and saw him looking away, his eyes distant.

"Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty," he said, "In politics and war we can't all be white knights. Charles doesn't understand this."

Suddenly Erik loosened his grip on Susanna. His hands cupped her face and he looked her in the eye. The sudden motion startled her again, but she didn't say anything.

"Over the next few days this news is going to break, and I'm not sure how it will go down," he said, "I want you and Lorna to remain in the palace. If I'm with you, then it'll be fine to go out. There should be enough bodyguards if that happens…"

His voice trailed off and Susanna grasped his forearms.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Erik leaned his head forwards until it touched her forehead.

"It might get dangerous," he said, "And I want you and Lorna well out of it."

He looked down.

"I need you to trust me," Erik said, "Can you?"

She took a deep breath. She remembered the first time Erik had asked her to trust him. The MRD had just raided their house, the first time she'd ever seen them. He'd arrived home not a moment too soon. While metal flew and blood and bullets filled the air she'd grabbed Lorna who'd started to cry because of all the noise.

Susanna had made it outside by the time the house had caught on fire. Shock had overcome her and she'd sunk to her knees, her bawling three-year-old daughter in her arms. Sometime later Erik had come out with thier documents, blood, soot, and sweat smearing his features.

For the longest time they'd stared at each other, her on the ground with thier daughter and he standing. Lorna was still crying, too young to understand or be given an explanation. Susanna was old enough though, and she'd just stared at her husband of nearly four years. He'd stammered and tried to explain what he was, what was happening, that it shouldn't matter, that he had no idea about the attack, and that she should please trust him.

Somehow it had been easier to trust him surrounded by flames and the corpses of the men he'd killed by controlling the metal in their guns. It hadn't been the panic or the fear, because she'd remembered having a strange clarity of mind when he'd begged her to trust him. It hadn't even been her youth. Why were things different now?

Even so, Susanna swallowed and repeated what she'd said then.

"Of course."


	24. Chapter 24

May 2, 1960

Emma cooed, looking down at Laura. Above her a mobile of pink crystals glittered, gently catching the light. It had been a gift from Emma and Clarice. The crystals could teleport someone, but Kayla had made sure that they were safely out of Laura's reach. With that distance all they did was glimmer and delight her daughter with their light. It had been such a success that Moira had actually requested a similar one for her own baby.

Emma cooed again and touched Laura's forehead gently. Kayla hadn't seen her sister so smitten with any living creature. The second she had seen Laura she'd melted. Kayla envisioned a future where Laura would grow up with an indulgent aunt. Laura wasn't quite a year old and she already had Emma wrapped around her finger. Her father was in a similar state, to a degree.

She smiled when she thought of her husband. He was so nervous around their child. Kayla could understand it. She'd seen him in the thrall of his nightmares, had the still-healing scratches on her arm to prove it. Kayla had always been careful to hide them from Emma. She knew her sister wouldn't understand.

It was adorable to see the first time that he mustered up the courage to take Laura in his arms. He'd resisted at first, but she'd managed to convince him. Even then he'd only held her for a minute before putting her back in the bassinet. His confidence grew with each passing day. Kayla had clocked him at three minutes the last time he had done it, and she was sure that by the time Laura became a toddler he would be unafraid to swing her in his arms.

Seeing that Laura was asleep Kayla put a hand on Emma's shoulder. They didn't need Laura to wake up in the middle of her afternoon nap. Emma nodded, understanding her sister's concerns, and the two left the room. Once the door had closed Emma smiled, the same look of adoration for Laura on her face.

"She's adorable," Emma said.

"She is," Kayla said, "I get the feeling she'll rule the world when she gets older."

"Oh, no doubt," Emma mused, "No doubt."

A thought crossed into Kayla's head and she nudged her sister.

"Who knows?" said Kayla, "She may even have a few cousins one day to help her."

Emma smiled wider but there didn't seem to be much mirth in the gesture.

"I don't know about that," she said, "You're the mother here Kayla. I'm not exactly…equipped for that sort of thing."

"That's what Logan said when I told him I was pregnant," Kayla said.

A slight frown creased her sister's face. Not wanting to seem too pressuring, she quickly added;

"But when the time comes I'm sure you'll make your own decision."

Emma nodded, looking grateful that the conversation was over. She was only twenty and Kayla wasn't in any hurry for any other big changes in their life. If Emma found someone then she would be happy for her. At the same time she didn't want her to make any hasty decisions. She had only known Logan for a short time before they were married, but at least that had turned out alright. She wasn't a big believer in fate, but she had a feeling that, one way or another, they should have come together.

Together they continued downstairs. Emma walked into the kitchen and opened the ice-box. Kayla followed her and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not even asking now?" she said.

"What, I can't sneak some cola in my sister's house?" asked Emma.

She picked up a bottle, turning her thumb and forefinger into diamond. With a loud snap she popped the top off.

"Besides," she said, taking a swig, "I need the caffeine. Things are getting pretty busy back at the palace."

"Oh really?" asked Kayla.

She nodded.

"There's that immigration law that's going through," said Emma.

"Oh," said Kayla, "I hadn't heard about that."

Emma cocked her head.

"I expect you wouldn't," Emma said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Kayla.

Her sister took another swig of cola.

"It's just that Magnus wants to limit the amount of humans who can immigrate in," she said, "Parents of mutant children are alright, but if they just have a mutant relative like a cousin or something, then they won't be allowed. And when I say limit…I suppose I mean ban."

Kayla frowned. She thought of Moira. Her friend would have been fine under the law, but it still seemed like there was something wrong with it.

"That seems…extreme."

"There's also a deportation clause," Emma said.

Kayla gaped.

"It'll never go through."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He has the support of several factions. It'll be announced publicly in a few days, so it's hard to gauge the reaction in the city," Emma said, "But there are a few who are against it who have some clout."

"Such as?" asked Kayla.

Emma opened her mouth and then stopped. She leaned in and Kayla flashed back to when her little sister would impart a big secret. It seemed a little late for the secrecy, since her sister had already told her something she shouldn't have, but she played along all the same.

"Can you keep a secret?" asked Emma, as she always did.

"Of course," Kayla said.

"Charles is dead-set against it," said Emma, "He says he's going to fight it. It's not something that people look forward to coming back from the birth of their child to find out. It was pretty much done behind his back."

"God," Kayla said.

Her sister nodded. Kayla gave her a long look, trying to decide if she should ask her next question. In the end she decided that she should.

"And your vote?" she asked.

Emma shrugged.

"It wasn't a difficult decision really. Azazel is furious about it," she said, "And he doesn't have a lot of reasons to be pro-human."

Kayla nodded. Her sister had told her that Azazel had been in the cell next to hers, one of the few reasons she had managed to cling to her last shreds of sanity. Kayla could never pay back the debt she owed him for doing what she should have if she'd been there.

Emma shook her head.

"But the Szardos family took him in. They treated him like family until he left and got captured by the MRD," she said, "When Genosha became safe he had them come over in the same trip that brought the Queen and Princess. He won't let this go by unchallenged because of them. So I'm supporting him, and Clarice is too."

She took another sip.

"I stand behind my friends," Emma said, "And, I'm going to be honest, this whole thing seems a little wrong to me. Not…hugely wrong…just a little. I suppose that isn't good. I should have a strong opinion about something like this, shouldn't I?"

"You can't force yourself to feel something," Kayla said.

Emma nodded adn for a minute Kayla thought she saw a glimmer of sadness in her eyes before she looked up.

"It just feels ominous I suppose."

Kayla nodded, feeling slightly relieved. Her sister wasn't very pro-human, Kayla could understand that, but she wasn't too far gone. It was good to know. She knew that her sister wasn't fully recovered from her experiences, but she had high hopes that she would one day. She couldn't see her beautiful little sister as crazy.

However, the mention of the Queen made another thought come into her head. She didn't know Susanna too intimately, they just had mutual friends, but she had seemed to be a very caring woman. Kayla couldn't imagine her standing behind such a law, even if her husband was the major figure behind it.

"What does the Queen think of all of this?" she asked.

Emma frowned and shrugged.

"You know, I really don't know," she said, tilting her head back, "She's not a cabinet member so she never comes to any of our meetings. She's influential in her own spheres, but those are mostly humanitarian efforts. She founds charities, things like that."

Her sister's frown deepened.

"I haven't heard her opinion on it," she said, "I don't think anyone has actually."

Kayla's brow furrowed.

"I'm sure Magnus must have talked it over with her first," she said, "I just…they're married with a child. I don't see how…he must have mentioned it to her at least. Perhaps they just agreed to disagree or something."

Emma looked thoughtful and she took a deep drink of her soda. She didn't answer though. Kayla was about to ask again, but the front door opened. Logan walked in, looking tired. His gaze swiveled towards Emma before flickering back to Kayla. Smiling Kayla walked up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Long day?" asked Kayla.

"Yes," he said.

His voice was terse and Kayla frowned. Upstairs she heard Laura begin to cry.

"Would you excuse me?" she asked.

Logan nodded and Kayla hurried upstairs.

* * *

Emma took another sip of her soda and gave Logan a cool look. His glare intensified. She leaned against the counter and waited. When nothing happened she sighed.

"Well?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

She raised her eyebrows and sighed. She didn't enjoy verbal sparring with Logan. It wasn't really a contest.

"I can't read your mind you know," she said, "There's too much scarring in your brain tissue. Some kind of barrier. So you're just going to have to tell me whatever it is that's on your mind."

"I know you've been visiting Vic," Logan growled, "Why the hell would you do that?"

So that was it. Emma cocked her head and gave him a brittle smile.

"Now, Clarice wouldn't tell you," she said, "So let me think…ah, it was Calvin. Clarice mentioned it to Calvin and he made an offhand comment. I will have to have a conversation with him one of these days."

She smiled. Calvin was a good man, but he could be dense at times.

"As for why would I do that, why wouldn't I?" she asked, "Ever since you married Kayla, we're actually related."

"Stop playing games."

"I'm being honest," said Emma, "And you make it sound like I go every week, but it's more of an occasional thing."

She cocked her head in thought.

"Now, the first time was gloating," she said, "I have my weaknesses, and he had just tried to kill my sister. I felt that he should know you were married, tell him how useless his attack had been. But then…I don't know. I felt like I needed to at least know that he was going to be an uncle, and then when it really happened."

Logan growled at her and she rolled her eyes.

"You'd do the same thing if you had the brass," she said, her voice tart, "I thought I was doing you a favor so you didn't have to see your brother foaming at the mouth."

"Shut up," Logan said.

She finished up her soda and put it on the counter with a solid click.

"No, I won't," Emma said, "I'm going to be perfectly frank Logan. I don't like you."

The words fell from her lips passionlessly. She continued before he could get a word in.

"Now, as a person in general I think you're alright. You fought well in the revolution and you don't bother with fripperies," Emma said, "But Kayla deserves someone better, someone who didn't come to her damaged, someone who doesn't cut her up when he has nightmares."

A look of shame crossed his face before it was buried by anger.

"Good. You should be ashamed," Emma said.

"It's not on purpose and-" Logan began.

"I know, I know," Emma said, waving his words away with her hand, "And you probably went through this whole agony bullshit about whether or not you were good enough for her and she cast the final vote. My sister's like that. I get it."

She took a deep breath.

"But I don't openly hate you. In fact, I go around trying to help you," Emma said, "And do you know why?"

Once more he tried to answer but Emma cut him off again.

"I do it because for some reason or another Kayla fell in love with you, married you, and had your child."

Emma gave him a fixed look.

"You know that I love her," she said, "She was the one who raised me when my father couldn't bother with yet another daughter and my own mother was too doped up to care. I loved Christian and he protected me but Kayla and I…we're very close. And I love her daughter, my little niece."

She sniffed.

"So don't come in here all high and mighty," Emma said, "I'm not your enemy Logan; I'm your sister. I'll do whatever it takes to help you out because it helps my sister out. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll actually like you."

Emma tossed her head.

"But not today, and not as long as you keep that attitude up," said Emma.

She detached herself from the counter and left the room.

"I think I'll leave you to think about that for a while. Tell Kayla I got paged," she said, "And lots of love to Laura."


	25. Chapter 25

May 15, 1960

Christopher walked out onto the training grounds. All around him the Hellions were doing morning exercises, getting ready to be briefed that afternoon. He sat down, knowing that if he didn't catch some rest then then he never would. He knew that his eyes had dark circles under them and his face was drawn. Christopher hadn't been well-rested in a while.

It was hard for him to be. News had spread like wildfire amongst the Genoshan human population of the new law. He'd heard it first from Katherine, who'd heard it from Moira. It had been accompanied by her fervent promises that Charles was fighting it, but Christopher knew better than to put all his eggs in one basket.

He'd known for a while that there were sapien and superior hostilities. Christopher wasn't stupid. He'd seen it in the malice of aides or a few people walking in the street. It was harder to recognize on a day-to-day basis since most mutants were indistinguishable from humans. However, it was still there.

It had existed on such a small level that he'd been able to ignore it. Most of his friends were mutants, although a few others were the human parents of mutants. Alex's best friend, Sean, had human parents that they were close to. All of them would have to go in a few years if the law was passed to an uncertain life in the States.

Already some of their mutant neighbors were letting their hostilities be known. He'd heard rumors of signing a petition to ask the humans to leave their community. He couldn't see it going through; the humans in their particular neighborhood outnumbered the mutants. However, if the law was passed things would be different. They would be, in effect, second-class citizens. He didn't think that their desire to stay in the same area would have much clout.

There were exceptions for people like him who held government jobs. He could stay, as could Moira and, ironically, the Queen. He snorted at the thought. Moira and the Queen were protected in more areas though since they were married to mutants with mutant children. Thier spouses were mutants. So yes, all of them could stay as one big, happy family.

The same thing wouldn't apply for the Summers. Katherine had little protection. Staying until the last of their children turned eighteen was the slender protection that the law allowed parents, and the human children of mutants too. As soon as they were eighteen they were scheduled for deportation.

He felt sick just thinking about it. If it turned out Scott wasn't a mutant, and he had until fourteen to show his powers, then he'd have to go too. That was when Katherine would have to go. He might stay for Alex, children didn't make the switch to adults as soon as they hit eighteen, but either way it wouldn't be good.

The problem of explaining their situation was also going to come up. Scott was old enough to continue in ignorance, but already Alex's sharp mind was figuring things out. He was thirteen, no longer young enough to be coddled into a false sense of security. Soon he'd have to explain their precarious situation before he found out about it himself.

Of course he would have to stay behind. There was no question of it. Knowing Alex he'd try to argue to stay with his family no matter what happened, but Christopher couldn't allow that. He'd already seen what happened to mutants alone, outside of Genosha. No matter what happened, if the law was passed then their family could no longer stay together.

Christopher bowed his head, feeling the weight of impending defeat. Already he saw the thread s of his family unraveling before him.

"Sir?"

Christopher looked up. Calvin was standing in front of him, his eyes concerned. Christopher had long ago given up on thinking of his soldiers by their last names. Too much had happened since they had come under his command for that. Feeling tired he rubbed his temples and nodded.

"Yes Captain?" he asked.

Calvin shifted from one foot to the other.

"Are Alex and Scott going to be coming in today sir?" he asked.

Christopher shook his head. He'd started to bring his sons in with him every now and then. It gave Katherine a break, and he figured that every child should have a decent idea of what their father did. As long as they were kept away from the offices it was alright. The two of them, Alex in particular, had started wandering onto the training grounds.

At thirteen Alex's powers were developing well, nurtured along by the school that Xavier had set up. He was starting to become more precise and enjoyed sending out bolts of energy at targets. Scott loved watching his brother at practice, following the bright red lights with his eyes. It was just another thing that the new law might ruin.

He wasn't sure if it was the natural fondness for children in some of his soldiers or nostalgia that led them to show kindness to his children. Several had even begun helping Alex with his aim or chatting with Scott. Heather was particularly good at storytelling, editing their exploits of the blood and the majority of the violence. He'd been surprised at her talent for that; she was, after all, the chief medical officer.

Overall his sons had been accepted with open arms into the fold. Alex moved about freely, calling them all by their codenames since that was how they had to introduce themselves. His brother was picking up on it too. They really looked up to the Hellions, and it was good to ahve positive heroes. The only negative side effect was that he'd seen Alex and Scott eying the motorcycles that most of the Hellions drove a little too closely. He'd have to keep an eye on that.

In no time at all they'd been adopted as the Hellions' unofficial mascots, an event that made Christopher smile. Katherine had just sighed when she'd heard it, muttering about having a family full of soldiers. At the time he'd been impressed with the openness of Genosha though, allowing children onto a military compound. Now it was just another bitter reminder of what was being taken from them.

"No, Alex and Scott are in school," Christopher said, "Do you have your briefing ready for this afternoon?"

"Yes sir," said Calvin.

"Any trouble?"

"No sir."

There was a slight pause.

"Something bothering you Captain?" asked Christopher.

Calvin hesitated before nodding.

"Yes sir."

There was another pause. Christopher sighed in frustration.

"Go on," he said, "Spit it out."

Calvin swallowed.

"I've been talking with the other Hellions," he said, "Well…you see…it's about that new law that's being presented to parliament sir."

Inwardly Christopher deflated. After everything that had happened, not this too. Not this last, final betrayal. He swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on Calvin.

"What about it?" he asked, his voice harsh.

To his credit Calvin didn't so much as bat an eye.

"I know that, as a member of the Genoshan military, I'm not really allowed to talk too much about politics," he said, "But I can assure you that no one in this troop supports the new law. All of us are going to go to that protest rally in a few days."

Christopher swallowed again, but for an entirely different reason. Calvin managed a small smile.

"Off duty of course," he added.

Christopher nodded and looked out over the other Hellions. Their united support wasn't something he'd been expecting. Sure he'd trained them all from their first day, had watched as they played with his children. At the same time they'd seen the brunt of what was happening to mutants because of the MRD, because of the intolerance of some humans. They'd been the ones to rescue the children from that damned facility in Italy.

If they could learn to see past that, then maybe the situation wasn't as hopeless as it seemed. Maybe they had a fighting chance.

"Thank you Calvin," Christopher said, somehow managing to find his voice.

Calvin blinked in surprise. It had been the first time Christopher had called him by his first name.

"Now," Christopher said, struggling to let his position take over, "Back to your post."

Calvin's expressions softened.

"Sir yes sir," he said.

* * *

"Hank, we're going to need to talk," Norton said.

Hank adjusted his glasses and put away his textbook. The Xavier Institute, as it was coming to be known despite its founders' wishes, had been the ideal school. His son was already well on his way to graduating college. Norton had been astounded at how Hank had been allowed to bloom under the care of Genosha, how good the country had been to the father and son pair.

It was why what was happening hurt so much.

"Is this about the new immigration law?" asked Hank, his voice uneasy.

Norton nodded, taking a seat.

"As you know, the government has used me for some consultations in the past," Norton said, "Not very many, but I'm the foremost scientist on Genosha."

Hank pushed up his glasses again. Norton breathed out. After everything he'd been through with his son it was a wonder why this, of all things, was so difficult to talk about.

"But I wouldn't be protected under the new law," he said, "I'd have to go."

There was silence. Norton swallowed. He'd never been particularly brave. He'd been widowed when Hank was fairly young and had raised his son between working. Norton had always been paid well, so life was never really a struggle for them. It was only when Hank's mutation became apparent that things became difficult.

At first he'd delighted in his son's cleverness. Norton knew that once every few generations child prodigies were born, and it seemed like the lottery had fallen to Hank. So he'd nourished his son's education and put him into private schools. Gifts like Hank's weren't something that should be wasted.

Then his son's feet had changed and Norton had known. He'd heard whispers of mutants, and as a scientist he'd dismissed them. Norton was an outstanding medical doctor, so he knew that something like that was possible, some day. He just didn't think that it was going to be happening any time in his lifetime.

However, he knew now that it was true. This was something he had the feeling that the rest of the world wouldn't appreciate. So he'd done his best to keep Hank hidden, even advising him to tone down on his scientific mind from time to time. It couldn't hurt to be safe, even though he felt like he was holding his son back.

All the while Norton had been gaining fame as a doctor. He'd used several experimental medical procedures to great effect, saving lives. Norton had been proud of his work and of what he could do. It had never occurred to him that his procedures, which he'd always seen as a tool to save lives, would attract unsavory attention.

He hadn't known until members of the MRD had approached him to work in one of their labs. Norton wasn't stupid. He read between the lines of their offer and knew that the experiments he'd be performing would be neither life-saving or on willing participants. He'd turned them down, citing that he was too busy. Then he'd contacted a few friends who were in law enforcement who said they'd look into it.

The next day three of his labs had burned down. One of his friends in the police force showed up dead a few days later. The MRD had come again, all sharp smiles that made Norton shudder. He realized that he didn't have a choice. Even so he'd told them that he'd give them their answer in a week. Norton had called off his police friends, making sure that none of them would get hurt because of him. He'd then taken his son and left the city.

He'd travelled with Hank for two months before Genosha was announced. He'd gone immediately with his son and asked to speak to an official. Norton had told them all he'd known about the MRD's offer, hoping that they'd believe that he'd never worked for them. Luckily for him they read between the lines too and saw a man who believed in working for the common, as opposed to the greater, good.

And so the brief period of panic in their lives had ended and things had settled down. He'd just started to believe that everything would be alright.

"I want to make sure that you're going to be okay if it's passed," Norton said.

Hank drew himself up.

"I'd go with you," Hank said.

Norton shook his head.

"No," he said, "What happens if the MRD tries to 'hire' me again? They didn't know you were a mutant, but I won't let you run that risk."

"It's just feet!" Hank protested, "I can hide it-"

Norton shook his head, putting his hand on his son's shoulder.

"No," he said, "No. I've held you back for long enough Hank. I shouldn't be the reason you have to hide any longer. Not when you don't have to."

Hank's face set, his jaw clenched.

"Then I'll have to make sure this doesn't pass," he said, "There's going to be a rally-"

"Which is a perfect place for the people who've had violent anti-sapien rallies to hurt people," said Norton.

"I can't do nothing!"

"We'll figure something out," Norton said.

Hank shook his head, his face angry.

"They can't do this," he said.

"We'll figure something out," Norton repeated.


	26. Chapter 26

May 20, 1960

"Now, Dr. McCoy is going to be attending you in a few days," Dr. Hudson said, "I figured I should tell you ahead of time."

"Why's that?" asked Doug.

Dr. Hudson opened her mouth to reply when there was a soft explosion from the doorway. Raven had gotten much more used to Azazel's surprise visits since their first occurrence. She just inclined her head as Azazel walked into the room, dusting imaginary lint off his black jacket.

"There is event we must go to," he said.

"That thing that's happening in the square?" asked Rahne, "The rally?"

Azazel rolled his blue eyes in her direction.

"You are very clever little girl," he said, "Your father tell you this?"

Raven shot him a warning glance. They didn't talk about Rahne's parents in the hospital. Rahne, oblivious to her aunt's displeasure, shook her head.

"I hear things," she said.

"Of course," Azazel said.

"What's it for?" asked Doug.

"There's a mean law that's going up for the vote," Rahne said, "It's going to hurt people, so some people are going to protest tomorrow."

"Rahne, that's not all that's going on," said Raven, her voice chiding.

"Nyet, I think that she has it," Azazel said.

He sounded playful and Raven glared at him.

"I think you're simplifying it," she said.

Azazel smiled. When he spoke though, all hints of playfulness were gone.

"Nyet, I do not think I am," he said.

Raven wanted to say something back, but Doug and Rahne were in the room. Dr. Hudson was already giving her a reproachful look. She shook her head.

"I have to go get my bag from the break room," she said, "Rahne, get ready. I told Charles I'd have you back home in five minutes."

"Not gonna happen," Rahne muttered.

"I know. We're already late, so meet me in the lobby in five," Raven said.

She walked out of the room, waving to Dr. Hudson and Doug. When she made it into the break room she heard the soft explosion that always announced Azazel. Raven blinked and turned her head, staring into his eyes. His face was hard and he leaned up against the wall of lockers, his tail flicking behind him.

"What makes you such expert on law?" he asked.

Raven grabbed her bag out of the locker and shut the door behind her.

"I'm not talking about this," she said.

"Nyet, I think you are," Azazel said.

His tone was sharp. Raven rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"Charles is being an idiot by not cooperating," she said, "There, I've said it."

Azazel's expression didn't change.

"Yet, he is your starshy brat," he said.

Raven knew enough Russian to pick up 'older brother'.

"Doesn't mean he isn't an idiot," Raven said, "If he cooperates than he can make the law more moderate. Instead he's just fighting the whole damn thing. He might be able to stop humans coming in and keep the ones we have here. That's all I'm saying."

He continued to stare at her, his expression unwavering. She figured the conversation was over since he didn't say anything. She made a move, trying to leave, but he was blocking the way to the door. Raven let out a frustrated sigh.

"What?"

"It seems to me that you have worse grasp of situation than little girl," Azazel said.

Anger flared up in her.

"Excuse me?" she demanded.

"The real danger of law isn't that it is unmoderated," Azazel said, "Real danger is that it is gateway. First ban human immigration, then take all humans out of Genosha. Forever."

"No it wouldn't!" Raven argued, "We need to have some sort of check on them."

Azazel raised an eyebrow.

"You really hate humans, da?" he asked.

She tilted her head up.

"Don't play stupid. We both have visible mutations, we both know what it can be like," Raven said, "I was abandoned by human parents because I looked different. Moira's alright, I'll give her that, and so's the Queen and Dr. McCoy. But in my life, almost all the people who've given a damn about whether I live or die have been mutants!"

Azazel looked calmly at her. She panted, feeling the heat in her face.

"I was in Genoshan freak show from birth until ten," he said, his voice steady, "I run away then, run far away as possible."

His casual tone made Raven feel like the floor had been cut out from under her.

"Managed to make it to California," said Azazel, his voice still casual, "Was attacked by group of humans when crossed highway."

He leaned in and Raven took a step backwards.

"Bleeding I stumbled into field. There were caravans," he said, "One opened and I expected death. Instead woman looks at me, and screams; 'Sabu, someone is hurt!"

His face still drawn Azazel let out a shuddering breath.

"Some**one**," he said, "I had never been called this. Some**thing**, da. Not some**one**. They cared for me with nyet thought. And I will never let such people be hurt. Rest of humans…I do not care. But for them, I will keep close by. I will not risk."

Raven tried to look down, feeling embarrassed. His hand hooked under her chin and jerked it up so she faced him. Azazel's face softened.

"Why should someone like you be so angry?" he said.

Her lips parted and she stared at his pale blue eyes. They'd gone from hard and angry to something she was entirely unfamiliar with. She saw them flicker down to her mouth for a minute before meeting her eyes again with that same unreadable expression. A long moment passed between them, neither saying anything or moving.

Then Azazel pulled his hand away. Raven cleared her throat.

"Thank you for…having patience with me," she said, "And for…telling me."

"Nyet problem," Azazel said, swallowing.

"Well…I uh…I'm supposed to be meeting Rahne," Raven said.

"Da," Azazel said, "Da."

She nodded to him and he moved aside. Raven walked past him, feeling her heart pounding.

* * *

Emma could be patient. She'd learned patience in a cell, counting time between when the scientists came in, food was served, and Azazel was conscious enough to have a conversation. Watches had never appealed to her because she measured time by events, not the continuous movement of a hand and a small ticking noise.

So she measured the time since the act had been introduced in the same way. First there was the fight between Charles and Magnus. She knew it had happened even if she hadn't been present. Their stances when they walked into the cabinet room were enough to tell her that they had, without much politeness, decided to disagree on the issue.

The next event was when she cast her lot in with Azazel. It had felt strange without Clarice standing by her side. Clarice had resigned her cabinet position since it was a military one, but Emma knew she'd be canvasing aplenty. She had never been one for sitting important things out while the world moved around her. Emma actually suspected that she was one of the major pushers in the rally that was coming up.

Emma found herself envying her friend, again. This time it wasn't because of Clarice's pretty pink hair or even her sanity. Her decision to oppose the law was caused by a deep-rooted belief of equality. Emma's was an automatic one that had nothing to do with her personal feelings. The Szardos family was being threatened. The Szardos family made Azazel happy. She would defend the Szardos family until the day she died.

There were other reasons of course; ones involving the happiness of her sister, but the Szardos family was the big one. Moira would be staying no matter what. The Szardos family would not. They were the ones who were in jeopardy. They were the ones who needed to be protected. So Emma had, without a word, stood up with Azazel.

Now that she had thrown herself into the deep end of the political ocean she had to reassess her position. There were sharks out there, and blood was in the water. There had been plenty cabinet members who'd stood by Magnus, and there would be plenty of parliament members who would stand by him as well. Obviously all of the human members were going to vote against him, but that still left a lot of votes up in the air.

Emma had never seen herself as a knight in shining armor. She wore white, but only because of the fact it reminded her of her siblings. There were other colors in her wardrobe, both in the physical and psychological sense. Emma could turn her coat as well as anyone, and she could do it quickly.

She no longer had the luxury to be her lackadaisical self. They were fighting a war again, a war made from words instead of actions. There were no guns or explosives, and you'd get arrested if you punched or killed someone. Instead rhetoric was the weapon of the day, rhetoric and seasoned arguments. This was a war on a level that she'd never fought before, but she knew that the stakes were just as high.

Just because she hadn't fought this kind of battle didn't mean that she couldn't fight it, which was why she was so easily underestimated. Emma knew she was smart. She had quick wits and a sharp tongue. Her greatest power was her mind; her diamond skin was just a perk. It was time to use her number one weapon and get back into the ranks.

So she went into attack mode. Her eyes sharpened to details and her heart hardened. There was no room for sentiment in a war. Emma might be fighting because of her emotions, the attachment she felt for someone, but that was just the cause. She was going to be utterly unsympathetic in her manner of battle.

It was why she was moving through the political offices at one in the morning. Emma wore a black skirt, tie, jacket, and glasses pushed around her eyes. She held a folder with a pen clipped onto it, the height of professionalism. Her hair was pulled back, something she detested above all else. No matter. It was just a disguise, one of many she'd worn during the revolution.

Azazel had been involved in spy work, being the best teleporter they had. Clarice, when her powers had sharpened, had soon joined him. Having a telepath was handy for interrogations, so she started to come along too. It had drawn the three of them closer together and had taught Emma the few life lessons she hadn't already learned.

Her face set as she thought of Azazel. He was one of her treasured people and his happiness was at stake. He'd never had that threatened before, not since Emma had mustered up enough sanity to fool the psychiatrists. Clarice and Kayla had been threatened, but Emma had never been able to even start to pay him back for the care he'd shown her.

It wasn't just about debt though. If it had been solely about debt than she would've had several conflicting ledgers. Of course she owed Magnus and Charles her life. They'd both been good to her and normally she would sit such a battle out. However, it was a clear choice of sorting out her priorities.

She slipped into the aides' office. Emma had scanned a few of their minds while she'd brought Clarice her lunch for the past few days, gathering vital information. She hadn't told her what she was planning. Clarice wouldn't approve. Azazel probably wouldn't approve either when she thought about it. So she figured it was best to just keep her lips zipped.

Emma walked into a back room opened up a hidden compartment behind a light switch. Behind it was a keypad that she punched numbers into. A panel in the wall slid back to reveal safes. She knelt by one of the safes and used the combination she'd plucked from an aide's minds to get in. Inside she saw several black leather folders. They were the political briefs for high-ranking members of the Genoshan government. She could even see her own.

Emma looked through them, using the codenames from the aides' minds to find Susanna's. She looked through it. Emma read countless texts on charity work and the establishment of new foundations. There was very little about politics, and she suspected that Magnus kept it that way on purpose.

Carefully Emma pulled out her own brief from her folder. It was a summary of the new law in the Genoshan parliament, written in the same kind of format and on the same paper as the other briefs. She allowed herself a small congratulations as she tucked the new brief in with the others before closing the folder.

She put it back into the safe, taking note of the correct order, and closed it. Emma got up and walked away. She smiled to herself. Kayla had been the one to give her the idea, however unknowingly. As soon as Kayla had brought Susanna's name into it she'd had an epiphany. Of course someone like Susanna wouldn't support this law. However, Emma knew Magnus better than Kayla. She highly doubted that he would let her know about it if she'd disapprove. He'd see it as a small price to pay to further ensure domestic harmony.

Telling her like this was underhanded, but no more underhanded than what had already been done to Susanna. She'd find out and having his wife angry at him might do a great deal to withdraw his support. If it didn't and the law went through anyway, then it would be a perfect revenge in its own right.

It was a dirty move, but Emma wasn't above using such tricks. Her own personal feelings didn't enter into a situation like this and she felt like morals fell out of the sphere. And yes, she supposed it would be rather disloyal to Magnus. However, it was just another case of sorting out her priorities.


	27. Chapter 27

May 22, 1960

Susanna finished brushing her hair and looked at the clock by the bed. She put her bathrobe on and left her bedroom. It was almost time for breakfast. She'd have time to get changed later. Besides, she liked that breakfast was an informal affair. There weren't even any bodyguards because of how close the rooms were. It was a blessed relief.

Lorna was already there. She was in her pajamas and her eyes were still heavy with sleep. Susanna smiled at her as they took a seat. Lorna cast her eyes over to her father's seat but said nothing. She'd learned not to ask. It made Susanna sad, but in all probability neither of them had expected him to be there that morning.

He hadn't even made it to bed the night before. She'd fallen asleep waiting for him and not woken up until morning. It was hard not to be worried, and she knew that it would be harder for her daughter. Susanna had explained to Lorna that important things were happening and she'd nodded her head, like she understood. In all likelihood she didn't. What child would?

Susanna knew that thier new lives demanded new responsibilities, but sometimes it was hard to handle. Erik would have to take a break sometime though. When he did they'd do something as a family, even if it was as simple as sitting in the same room as Lorna when she did her homework.

They finished up and Lorna went to her room. Susanna went back to her own to get ready for the day. There was much to do. It was the weekend, so it fell to her to keep her daughter occupied. They weren't going out; Erik had been clear about the need for them to stay where it was safe. She figured that they could have a garden party though, or she could teach Lorna something else about flowers.

As she walked through the study to her room she found her morning briefs on her desk. Susanna sighed. She'd forgotten about them that morning. She'd stayed up so late the night before that she'd slept in that morning. Susanna sighed and picked up the folder on her way to her room. She could read them while she got ready.

* * *

Erik walked into his room, feeling tired but satisfied. Garnering more support had been harder than he'd anticipated. The rally going on in the square was certainly hurting his cause, but a few protests here and there were just the wheels of free will. You couldn't have a democratic government without them.

He was just about to walk into his study when Neena ran into him in the hall. She looked troubled and he frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's the Queen," she said.

His eyes widened. He was a second away from demanding information from Neena before she continued.

"She went into her room after breakfast and she hasn't come out since," Neena said, "She locked the door. I knocked…the princess did too…and we both asked if anything's wrong. She said she was fine but she wasn't coming out…"

He began striding down the hall.

"When was the last time you asked?" he said.

"About two minutes ago," Neena said, "I had Lorna ask, but I put her in her room before I went for you."

At least that ruled out the possibility that someone had harmed or taken her from her rooms. He wondered if she was sick or something of the sort. It seemed unlikely given that she'd been fine at breakfast, but it was still a thought. Sickness could come quickly, and it would definitely be something she wouldn't want Lorna to see.

"Good idea," he said, "You're dismissed."

Neena nodded and turned the other way. He came upon the large doors to his room and listened. He could hear small sounds but nothing more. Frowning he put his hand against the door, manipulating the metal in the lock. Most of the door was coated in metal, a homage to himself, but it was the lock that he had to contend with at the moment.

The doors swung open. Susanna turned her head at the sound. He closed them behind him, his eyes fixed on her face. She was in an unusual amount of disarray for the hour, still wearing her night gown with a silk robe over it. Her hair was still down and she wasn't wearing any make-up

However, tears flowed freely from her eyes and she hugged herself tightly. Alarmed, he started forward.

"Susanna, what-?" he began.

Susanna held out a hand and, confused, he stopped.

"Erik," she said, her voice soft, "who am I to you?"

He stared, his confusion mounting.

"And I want you to think very hard before you answer this question," she said, her voice still soft.

The tears were still leaking out of her eyes and when she blinked, her eyelashes dotted with tears. Erik tried to affect a calming tone when he spoke, still unsure of what was happening.

"You're my wife Susanna," he said.

"Then you have a very different definition of the term than I do," Susanna said.

He shook his head.

"Susanna, what on earth are you talking about?"

Shaking her head she brushed away the tears on her cheeks before picking up her briefing folder. Erik continued to look at her with puzzlement as she opened the folder.

"In order to protect the shores of our isle against those that would do us harm," she read, "it has been proposed that we preserve Genosha as a homeland for mutants and mutants only. Hence we propose a series of restrictions against allowing the intrusive sapien species."

His jaw clenched and his head began to pound as she looked up.

"It says you approved this," she said.

Someone at his political offices was going to suffer for this.

"That's not supposed to be in there," he said.

"But it is," Susanna said, "So…who am I Erik?"

Erik's mind whirred away as he watched her, the tears streaming down her face and falling onto the folder. She didn't understand. He'd have to make her.

"Susanna, you didn't read the whole thing," Erik said.

"No, I did," she said.

"Then you know that you're excluded from this," Erik said, "The last thing I want is to send you away-"

"Is it?" asked Susanna.

Her words wavered and Erik stepped closer. She didn't resist as he took the folder from her hands and sat down beside her. He cupped her face in his hands and spoke softly.

"Of course it is," he said, "Susanna, this doesn't pertain to you."

"What about Katherine?" she asked, "What about the hundreds of parents who are going to be separated from their children because of this?"

Erik relaxed, finally seeing the problem. His wife was sensitive and compassionate. It was what had allowed her to stay with him in the first place. She had a soft heart, so of course she would feel pain at hearing of parents separated from their children. Susanna was probably feeling it so acutely that she wasn't thinking clearly.

"It's alright. There are provisions for that," Erik said, "They don't have to leave their children until they turn eighteen. They'll be able to fend for themselves then. We were already married with a child of our own on the way by then."

Susanna blinked at him and he took the opportunity to continue.

"After what happened with the MRD and the children I knew we needed to protect ourselves," he said, "I told you that I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe it was the best thing for Genosha. For you and Lorna to be safe."

Slowly she shook her head.

"No…no it isn't," she said.

"What?"

"It isn't for us," Susanna said.

Susanna removed his hands from around her face and gripped his wrists.

"Erik, open your eyes," she said, her voice pleading, "We're safe. We're happy. You're not doing this for us."

"Yes," he said, his voice harsh, "I am."

She shook her head, more forcefully.

"No," she said, "I think you're doing this for you."

He felt frustration creep onto the edge of his consciousness and tried to push it down. He had to remind himself that this wasn't a member of his cabinet who was hissing those words at him in defiance. It was his wife of nearly twelve years who was whispering them in a broken tone. No matter what, she deserved the chance to be heard.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She looked down, swallowing.

"I've always known about how much you…hated humans," she said, "And sometimes…knowing what's happened…sometimes I can't blame you. I just…Erik…I just always thought that…"

Her eyes opened and more tears spilled out.

"I always thought you loved me enough not to act on it," Susanna said.

He was struggling so much with his building irritation and frustration that he almost missed what she was saying. Erik breathed in, trying to digest her words. For a moment he felt like he was eighteen again, standing in the doorframe and looking down at her as she struggled with her tears on their wedding night.

Erik shook the feeling off and assumed a tender tone.

"Susanna, this doesn't mean that I don't love you," he said, "I believe that you're the best of what humans have to offer the world."

As gently as he could he drew her to him, feeling the stiffness in her body. It was unexpected but he held her anyway, kissing the top of her head.

"But just because you're that way," he said, "doesn't mean that everyone else is. And we need to protect ourselves from them."

"Maybe you have it wrong," she said, "Maybe it's the other way around and that most people…Erik most people on this island risked everything for their children or their siblings or someone they loved who was a mutant."

Her interruption stifled his mounting panic, reviving the irritation. If he'd wanted a lecture on why humans were so important he'd have gone to Charles. God knew that his friend had done enough preaching in the past few days. Nonetheless he tried to moderate his tone when he spoke.

"That's not how it is."

"How do you know?" asked Susanna.

He couldn't stop the angry edge that made it into his voice.

"I know," Erik said.

"I don't think you do," she said.

Erik shook his head.

"Susanna, I am trying the best I can to have you understand," he said.

She pulled away from him and got up. His frustration and anger reached a fever pitch. A small voice in the back of his head soundlessly begged her to stop, to back down as he teetered on the edge of something terrible. It told him to stop as well, but there was too much of a cacophony in his head.

"But I can't understand," Susanna said, "Because as far as I can see the only motivation for this is the hatred that you've carried with you since you were a child."

"Don't you dare say that," he snapped, "You don't understand."

Susanna took a step away from him, hugging herself tightly. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

"Maybe it's time someone did," she said.

"Don't you dare say that!" Erik shouted.

He got to his feet and glared at her. He'd reached the precipice, crossed that line, and now he couldn't stop.

"What do you understand?" he shouted, "What makes you such an expert? You're ignorant Susanna, ignorant of what it's really like!"

"Erik-" she began.

"You never asked questions before. Why do you have to keep questioning me? Why can't you trust me?"

"I do trust you, I've always trusted you," Susanna said, reaching for his arm, "But if I didn't try to help you-"

He shoved away her arm, laughing.

"Help Susanna? Help?" Erik demanded, "What could someone like **you** possibly help me **with**? Gardening?"

Tears were in her eyes again and he let out a breath, disgusted by a sight that had once caused him alarm.

"I'm your wife," she said, her voice quiet, "It's what I'm here for."

He threw his hands into the air.

"Then you have a very different definition of the term than I do," he hissed.

With a disgusted snort he turned from the room, slamming the door behind him. Just before he went he heard the sound of her sobbing on the other side of the door.


	28. Chapter 28

May 25, 1960

Alex wasn't stupid. He knew that something had been going on even before his father had taken him aside and explained it to him. He'd listened with incredulity, and then horror, as his father told him that there was a possibility they'd be separated. If bad came to worse than even Scott would be sent away.

It had been hard for him to believe. Ever since he'd been taken from his home by the MRD he'd realized that the world wasn't as safe as people believed. His father had always been his hero though, a tower of strength. It was a position that was only confirmed when he'd rescued him. His limp hadn't changed anything; he'd gotten the injury being the hero that he expected him to be. It also meant that he could come home and stay out of danger.

To see his hero worried was almost too much for him to take in. Alex had pretended like he believed his father's reassurances, but inside he'd been too confused for words. His father had taken him to the Hellion barracks soon afterwards, as was his custom. Alex had looked around aimlessly, trying to make sense of it all.

Alex wasn't that smart, his grades at the Institute were average at best. Still, he thought of himself as being perceptive, knew he was. It was why he was so baffled by recent developments. How could the same people he saw on a daily basis hate his parents? Hadn't his father put his life on the line to rescue them when he could've taken his son and left? Hadn't he trained the next wave of people who would continue to do the same when he no longer could?

When he couldn't figure it out Alex had resolved that no, it didn't make sense. Other people were just being cruel. So for an hour Alex had been angry at everyone around him. Most of the people there had been there longer, so he'd assumed it was their fault. He'd been so angry that he almost hadn't noticed Morph coming up to him.

"Hey Alex," he said.

Alex had looked up, his face still angry. Morph had frowned before sighing.

"So. You heard," he said.

Alex had nodded. Morph had paused, shifting from one foot to another.

"I know it might not mean much, but we don't approve of what's happening kid," he said, "None of the Hellions do. We're all going to a rally against it in a few hours in the city square. Try to let them know how we feel."

He put a hand on his shoulder.

"We're all behind you," Morph said, "And we want you to know that if we have our way your parents aren't going anywhere."

Alex had felt tears well up in his eyes. He'd shoved them away before hugging Morph. The shapeshifter had hugged him back, perhaps thinking that Alex was sufficiently comforted. He wasn't though; his fears were only temporarily assuaged. The Hellions were the strongest people he knew, but he also knew that they couldn't do everything. He understood enough about the political machine to know that.

His father had taken him and Scott home then. Alex had gone outside to play, still trying to puzzle through everything he'd heard. He'd run into Sean afterwards, whose father had had a similar talk with him. They didn't say anything for a long time after he told him that. Finally, Sean had spoken up.

"I think the worst part," he said, "is that we can't do anything."

Alex had been about to agree with him until he remembered Morph.

"There's a rally," he said.

Sean had turned to him. Together they hatched up the plan to catch a bus down to the town square. They knew that their parents wouldn't let them, probably because of their age. After everything they'd been through Alex knew that his father still saw him as very young. However, Sean came up with the idea to say that they were playing together in the woods for the afternoon. They'd been gone for hours before doing that. They'd be fine.

Alex had toyed with the idea of bringing Scott with him. He had just as much to lose from this as he had, if not more. If they really tried they could wrangle up the extra fare. In the end he decided against it though. Scott was only six and didn't know what was going on. He'd be too easy to lose in a crowd.

So they'd scrounged up their money for bus fair and gone down. The bus had stopped a few blocks away and the two of them had run into an unexpected difficulty; finding the city square. Alex knew that it was in the middle of the city, but he wasn't quite sure where they were. He'd thought that something as big as it had to be would be easy to find. Besides, there would be a lot of people. It wasn't as though it were a secret.

It turned out he was wrong. Finally they were reduced to asking directions. Alex and Sean ran into a boy about their age and, since he was holding a map, they figured he knew where he was going. It was less embarrassing to ask someone who was basically their age. Adults would probably look at them suspiciously.

The boy blinked and pushed up his glasses. Under any other circumstances Alex probably would've called him a nerd, but they needed directions.

"You two going to the rally?" he asked.

Alex had nodded, ready to sock him one if he said they were too young. Instead the boy smiled.

"Me too," he said, "You can follow me; I've been there a lot. The museum's right across from it, and my dad helps with exhibitions every now and then."

Sean had sighed in relief. As they started to walk Alex cocked his head at the older boy. If his parents were nearby it could cause trouble.

"Your parents with you?" he asked.

The boy shook his head.

"My dad told me not to come," he said.

Alex grinned.

"Looks like you're in good company then," he said.

The boy frowned.

"Why?" he asked.

"Our parents don't know we're here either," Sean piped up.

The boy gave a tentative smile as they walked into the square. All around them people were getting ready, barricades being put up and some people were unfolding signs. Alex didn't understand how he could have missed them. There were hundreds of people, maybe even thousands of them.

Alex smacked the boy on the back, feeling a sudden surge of camaraderie. It wasn't at all hopeless. Not if so many people were protesting.

"I didn't get your name," he said, "I'm Alex."

"Mine's Sean," Sean said.

The boy's smile widened slightly.

"Hank," he said.

Hank folded the map and put it into his shirt pocket. He pointed to the museum steps.

"We should probably go over there," he said, "It's going to get crowded soon and…we're not exactly the tallest people here. Unless either of you can fly?"

It was a legitimate question, considering all the powers on Genosha. Alex thought enviously to one of his classmates who had wings.

"Nope," Sean said, "I can clear a room pretty fast though."

"Not…sure I follow," Hank said.

"I've got…they called it sonic screams," Sean said, his brow furrowing, "I just thought I had a really high-pitched scream until the windows at my house shattered."

"Huh," Hank said, "You know…you actually might be able to fly with that."

Sean cocked his head in interest.

"Really?"

"Well, if you can get up to supersonic levels you should be able to glide if you had a set of wings to carry you through," Hank continued, "Like a hanglider or something. Smaller, of course, but the concept is still the same."

There was a pause.

"Is your mutation that you're super-smart or something?" Alex asked, remembering his original assessment of nerd.

Hank shrugged.

"And I can walk on walls," Hank said, "My feet have…traction."

"Think you can get us on the roof then?" asked Alex.

Hank looked doubtful.

"Maybe," he said, "But they'd get pretty angry over at the museum if three boys were watching the rally from the roof. The curator is pretty stuffy."

"Jerks," Alex muttered.

Hank shrugged and the three made their way over to the museum. It was crowded, making their progress slow. Sean suggested screaming several times. He was shot down each time. Even Alex recognized that it was a bad idea, and on some level he wanted to use his mutation to blast people out of his way.

Finally they arrived at the museum. The leveled steps allowed for a good view of the town square. Already more people were filtering into the square.

"They'll never pass it," Alex said, "They can't if there's so many people here."

Hank narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Maybe not," he said, "There aren't that many people on Genosha, so it really wouldn't take that many to make a difference. It probably won't pass unless there's an endorsement from a major political figure, but I hear the King's behind it."

Alex frowned. He was about to say that the King couldn't, he worked with his father. It wasn't a close relationship, but his father was still the head of the Hellions even if Mimic led them in the field. However, he knew he wasn't supposed to talk about that with his friends. His father's job was secret.

"But…" Hank said, "You know, if enough people put pressure on their representatives then it could work."

"I'm going to write a letter," Sean said, "I don't think it'll be very good, but I think they need to know that kids don't want to be separated from their parents."

"I could edit it for you," Alex suggested, "I should probably write my own as it is. Have Scott sign it too."

Sean snorted.

"You're only a little better than I am Alex," Sean said.

"Um, I could help," Hank said, "I've written papers before."

Hank's voice was tentative, almost as though he wasn't sure that he was allowed to be in the conversation. Alex cocked his head.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"576 East Lockheed," Hank said, "It's close to the hospital where my dad works, and the Institute…so yeah."

"That's only thirty minutes from us," Alex said, "My mom has a friend who lives down there and there's this one shop she likes that sells great pasta."

"You go to the Institute?" asked Sean, "Why aren't we in the same classes then?"

Hank looked slightly uncomfortable.

"He's older than us," Alex said.

"Not by much," Sean said.

Alex glanced over at Hank, who still looked embarrassed. It clicked.

"You're on accelerated courses, aren't you?" asked Alex.

Hank nodded.

"I'm about to graduate college," he said.

"Seriously?" asked Sean.

Hank nodded again. Alex shrugged. The boy next to him was smarter than he was. It wasn't such a surprise. There were a lot of people like that.

"Well, you're still the same age," Alex said, "We've got bikes. Take us like ten minutes. If that."

He snapped his fingers. Hank smiled as a man stepped in front of the crowd, followed by a few others. A mutant was obviously manipulating the sound somewhere, because his voice boomed over the square. Alex listened eagerly. He couldn't understand most of the rhetoric, but it sounded important and like the person knew what they were talking about.

The square erupted into cheers. Once again Alex felt confident. There were too many of them. Whoever had decided this law would pass had woefully misunderstood them. Nothing was going to happen because they wouldn't let it. He folded his arms over his chest, listening smugly to the words of the speaker.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of white in the crowd. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and, after a few minutes, managed to make out Morph thrusting his fist into the air. Next to him he could see Mimic and Thunderbird. He couldn't see any others, but it didn't surprise him since there were so many people. He supposed the rest were out in the crowd somewhere. Alex smiled. They had come.

Suddenly a red blast streaked over the group. The man speaking was hit in the chest from it. For a minute he clutched his chest and time seemed to stop. Then one of his friends rushed forward and time resumed. Someone screamed and Alex took a step back instinctively. He could make out people jostling each other.

More blasts followed and he thought he heard gunfire. Swallowing Alex looked over at Sean and Hank, who were looking at the scene with wide eyes. Someone shoved past Alex, knocking him to the ground. Hank quickly helped him up and they retreated next to a pillar, peering around it at the scene unfolding before them. What was going on?


	29. Chapter 29

Morph had lived a charmed life. His power, as most physical mutations were wont to do, had manifested at a very early age. Instead of abandoning him though, his parents kept him safe and lavished their love on him. His mutation had allowed him to hide himself from the rest of the world, a world that his parents understood wouldn't be so kind to him.

He'd been an only child, but had never been lonely. Morph had grown up in a nice neighborhood, the type of neighborhood kids could play in unattended. He'd done that quite a bit, since he'd always been a social creature. Although he knew that he couldn't show his skills off to the other kids he'd still interacted with them with confidence. Soon he'd become known as the funny kid, the kid who could drink milk through his nose.

Sometimes he'd look back at that period in his life, especially after hearing the stories of others, and wonder at his good luck. Morph had no bones or organs as far as anyone could tell; no heartbeat or blood. His parents had thought that his mother miscarried at first when his father had attended his sudden birth in their home. He'd have been a dream experiment for the MRD, ending up as some dissolved gloop in a lab somewhere.

Yet, somehow, he'd managed to slip under their radar and his life had gone on. Morph had played football for his high school and been the captain of the yearbook club. He'd even been able to go to college, although he'd found himself drawn to the JROTC program. Hiding his mutation had become a way of life at that point, a way of life that he'd started questioning by the time he got out of college.

After thinking about his situation for a long time he'd decided that it was wrong to hide. He'd been embarrassed by how long it had taken for him to come to this conclusion, but he'd lived in such nice surroundings that he'd never had a reason to doubt anything. He knew he wasn't a deep thinker either, so that couldn't have helped.

Just as he decided that the existence of Genosha as a homeland for mutants had been announced. He finally had something to call his abilities, as well as a place to go. Morph had declared his desire to move to his parents, and they'd been supportive. He'd moved and, after a month or two of adjusting to walking around in his gray skin, he'd joined the Hellion program.

The things he'd seen since then had been horrible, reinforcing his good fortune. However, despite what he saw he still considered himself lucky in his task. He had brothers, and sisters, in arms that he would gladly die for surrounding him. Morph knew he irritated them sometimes, but only in the way that friends grated on each other's nerves on occasion. Not being able to know their real names made no difference. There was no one else in the world he'd rather have at his back.

Which was, again, a good thing. He hadn't expected the rally he'd gone to to show his support for sharing Genosha with sapiens to turn into an all-out brawl and panic. Mimic had caught on to what was happening much faster than the rest of them since they were so far out in the crowd. Immediately he'd started shouting orders to them. Civilians were in danger and they needed to be helped.

Technically they were off duty and, technically, the X-men were supposed to deal with domestic disturbances. However, in case of an emergency they had jurisdiction. Thousands of frightened and shouting people, some with mutations and some without, sounded like an emergency to him.

Sunfire had lit up immediately and taken to the skies. Being able to fly made her their eyes in the sky. She'd come back and reported on positions to Mimic. He'd given orders and she'd taken off with Sasquatch. Their chief medical officer was going to be using all her skills that day.

Azazel had teleported to the stage and come back with the wounded speaker. He'd headed off to the hospital, although Morph had seen him a few minutes ago teleporting civilians out of the crowd. He wasn't a Hellion, not really, but he had an honorary status among them. Having a teleporter was always handy too.

Another blast of energy soared over their heads. Mimic, who was using his telekinesis to try and reduce the trampling, turned his head. His eyes met Morph's.

"Morph, you and Colossus head up to the museum and try to figure out who the hell's firing!" he said.

"Yes mon capitan!" Morph said, saluting.

He turned his head to Colossus. Together the two of them shoved a path towards the museum. Morph was impressed. The boy was fresh out of basic training and had yet to go on a mission, but he was doing fine. He was the newest of the Hellions and the one Morph knew the least about. From Morph's discussions with him he'd learned a few things about him.

To start with he spoke much worse English than Azazel, especially when he was excited. It was lucky he was taking classes. Morph had nothing against Russians, at least not much, but in combat situations you needed to be able to understand your allies immediately. Still, he was a good fighter and his heart was in the right place.

Colossus also didn't have much regard for humans. He'd agreed to come to the rally, but it hadn't been for the same reasons as the rest of them. Sure he liked Christopher. His brother and parents had also been humans and the way he talked about them betrayed no bitterness. Colossus was just a touch scarred from working so close to an MRD facility and seeing firsthand what humans did to mutants on a daily basis.

However, it hadn't fermented into hate. He'd come to the rally, probably more as a chance to show his solidarity with the rest of the Hellions. Morph also had a sneaking suspicion that Colossus wanted to go to a protest just because he **could**. Working on a commune in the Soviet Union tended not to offer many opportunities to do that.

Either way, he was here with them now and Morph was depending on him, just like Colossus was depending on Morph. Colossus made it easy to move through the crowds. Not even panicked people, no matter their own mutation, would blindly run into a man built like a tank. He even came complete with silver finish.

The marble steps of the museum were clear. Above them another blast was fired into the crowd. Morph fixed his face into a snarl. Whoever was firing had started all the pandemonium and was now just picking off targets. It was a complete disregard for the lives below them and, sheltered as Morph had been his whole life, he'd still seen enough for that behavior to start a black rage inside him. Whoever it was was going to pay.

He'd just reached the door when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Morph stopped short and Colossus stopped with him, looking puzzled.

"Ah, son of a monkey apple!" Morph yelled.

A few yards away Alex Summers winced.

"Hey Morph," he said.

* * *

It was odd that, despite the fact he was facing death for the second time in his life, Alex immediately started to panic over the fact that Morph would tell his father. Even he scoffed at his reaction, but it was like a knee-jerk reflex. No matter how much you wanted to and how silly it was, you just couldn't stop yourself.

"Is that Commander's son?" asked Colossus.

"Yeah, it is!" Morph said, "And friends apparently!"

Alex swallowed. Hank looked at him questioningly and Sean groaned.

"You know what," Morph said, making an irritable gesture with his hand, "never mind. We're going to be having a **long **discussion about how you got here, and why you shouldn't have, later. But right now you need to get out of here."

Despite his nervousness Alex stared at Morph disbelievingly.

"You think we wanna stay?" he asked.

Morph cocked his head, and Alex saw that he was considering the question. Alex could tell that he'd remembered the mass pandemonium that was happening in the square, that flowed like a river around the museum. It was the eye of the hurricane, the only place that they didn't run the risk of being trampled.

"Point taken," he said, "Stay here for five minutes with Colossus. Some asshole's firing on the crowd."

"Why am I babysitter?" asked Colossus.

"Because you're nineteen," snapped Morph.

"We can take care of ourselves," Sean said, his voice hesitant.

Morph waved away his words.

"Seeing your position I don't think-" he began.

A blast of energy knocked him to his feet. Alex watched as Morph dodged and rolled, coming to stand by Colossus. Immediately Alex knew that they shouldn't be there. Even though their escape route was blocked and there was no way to hide, they needed to stay out of it. When the Hellions fought civilians like him and his friends would only get in the way.

For lack of any other options he pressed his back further against the pillar. As he did he wondered if he should tell his friends that they needed to do the same, to stay out of whatever happened next. A quick glance showed him that he didn't need to bother; they were trying to get out of the way as much as he was.

Alex redirected his attention towards the direction that the blast had come from. If he couldn't get away then he should at least stay alert. It was one of the best lessons his father had taught him. As he watched the doors from the museum, already shattered from the energy blast, flung themselves open.

A man walked through them. Red energy pulsed around his hands and a blue trench coat swept the floor. In some ways it reminded Alex of his own power.

"Okay nutty-mcnuggets," Morph growled, "Feel like giving up?"

"Why would I give up to a bunch of sapien-sympathizers like you?" the man sneered.

"Alright then," Morph said, "Make my day."

A blast of red energy shot out of the man's hands. Morph dodged it but another blast hit Colossus. His skin absorbed it, and Alex saw it glow red from the heat. Colossus charged forward and the man redirected his attention, giving him a double blast. The force of the blast knocked Colossus backwards into a pillar, crumbling it under his weight.

Rubble fell around them and Alex crouched down, coughing from the dust. When he managed to open his eyes he could see Morph weaving through the man's shots. Colossus was on his feet again and the two were converging on him at the same time, each coming in at a different angle.

Immediately his mind lit up in recognition. Alex had seen this technique used in practice. He'd even been allowed to be the target, just so he could see how it was done. They'd stopped before they hit him, of course, but he'd been able to see how it worked. From their positions, and the angle they would come in at, it would look like one was going for the target's head and the other for the feet.

In all actuality it was an illusion. Both of the targets were aiming for the sternum and its corresponding spot on the spine. The dual shock would cause the target to double forward, allowing a dual strike to the ears. This would upset the balance and the target would stagger, leaving him open to further attack.

Alex got ready to see the technique in full action, only to have the man let out a full-body blast of energy. The blast knocked both Morph and Colossus backwards. More rubble filled the air as Colossus hit the ground and cracked the paving stones. Alex had to duck and began to cough again, closing his eyes against the thick dust.

Hence it came as a total surprise when he felt a hand lift him into the air. Another arm tightened around his throat and Alex's eyes flew open. Pressure began to choke him and he felt his feet dangle in the air. A few feet away he saw Morph and Colossus getting up, staring at him in horror.

"Trust me," Morph said, his tone sharp and angry, "You don't want to do this."

"You're all sympathizers," the man hissed, his grip on Alex tightening, "I was in a lab since I was a younger than this boy. And now you want to keep them here?"

"Let go," Colossus said.

"You want to keep them here?" the man shrieked.

Through the haze of fear he was feeling Alex lit on an idea. He swallowed, trying to get some air into his lungs.

"I was in a lab too you know," he managed.

The man looked down at him in surprise. His grip loosened, which was unexpected but not unwelcome.

"What are you doing here then?" he asked.

He managed to scoff at the disbelief in the man's tone.

"I've got parents," he said.

Gathering up what strength he had Alex let red crackling light flow through every pour. Fire burned at the end of it, growing brighter and hotter as Alex concentrated. The man yelped in pain, further loosening his grip on Alex. He felt his feet touch the ground, and he made his move.

Alex pushed through his grip and the next thing he knew Morph had grabbed his arm. The man had too and Alex felt his left arm snap under the tension. He cried out, but Morph gave him another jerk and pulled him away. They tumbled to the ground with Morph shielding him from the impact, barely avoiding another blast of energy.

From his left Sean screamed. Alex tried to cover his ears, but his left arm wasn't cooperating. Morph covered his ears for him, plugging them with his changeable skin. Colossus didn't seem to be having any trouble, probably because of his skin, but the man had begun to wince and put a hand to his ears.

Alex's eyes darted around, his mind in confusion from the pain. Everything was blurred, but he could make out most of it. Hank was curled up in a ball, his fingers plugged in his ears and tears streaming from his eyes. Colossus charged forward and the man raised his hand. Alex could see the beginnings of red energy forming at his fingertips.

Then, everything stopped.


	30. Chapter 30

Charles had never tried to stop so many minds at once. During the revolution he'd been able to stop the minds of up to fifty people. Any more time than that and the time he could hold them would decrease. If he didn't let it, he'd pass out and wake up in the morning with a roaring headache.

At the moment he certainly felt faint. Emma was right next to him, her power giving him the strength he needed to complete the task. Almost immediately after throwing him her power her feet had buckled underneath her. Clarice had caught her at the last moment, and they'd collapsed together. She was still being held by Clarice, whose worried green eyes were scanning the crowds. He wondered if she knew someone that had gone that she couldn't see.

He was aware that Azazel was the only reason he was still on his feet. The teleporter's quick thinking had led him to the cabinet room, where Erik, he, and a few others were doing business. He'd brought Clarice with him, who'd apparently attended the rally. Emma had been in the cabinet room to represent them, allowing them to attend.

Azazel's abilities, along with those of Clarice, had brought them to the square faster than any vehicle. Erik had come too, although there had been a moment when Charles had thought he might have let them go by themselves. Apparently his belief in order had overcome his contempt for the protesters.

In the end his powers were unnecessary. There was too much chaos going on for them to make a difference as they were. Charles had known the unlikelihood of him being able to stop such a crowd. However, he had Emma with him. In the past he'd been reluctant to do a joint venture with her because of the broken patchwork of her mind and unpredictable use of her powers. Now that she was much more in control things had changed.

So he'd taken a leap of faith and the gamble had paid off. Everything around them was frozen, a perfect tableau of what happened when order broke down. He could see people attacking others, and still more defending them. Members of the Hellions were scattered around the crowd, scooping people out from under the feet of the hoard. Their response time was to be recommended, although it was puzzling. He'd have to look into that later.

It was the biggest riot that had happened in Genosha since the revolution. He swallowed involuntarily. In his mind he knew that people had died in that square, either by the hands of their attackers or because they'd been crushed underfoot as thier fellow protesters fled. As he touched the minds of everyone in the square he was dismayed to find that there were several people there under the age of fifteen, mere children.

Some were as young as ten and had been brought by their parents. He got a brief image of two children hopping a bus without their parents' permission but, like all the thoughts pulled from the minds of those he held, it was fleeting. There were too many children, children who had only come to try and defend their parents, their siblings, cousins, and friends.

Then there were the minds of those who had begun the attack. Their minds hurt almost as much as the panic they had caused. He caught images of labs or of cruel parents, siblings, friends, and people in the streets. Their hatred was sharp and fierce. Instantly he thought of Erik's words and he was suddenly given a very clear idea of the kind of people who would support the law. He also knew that there were more than just the ones who'd attacked the rally.

Charles swallowed as he looked around the scene. No one was attacking each other, but the hardest part was yet to come. He summoned up what little strength he still had, even drawing what was left from Emma. She moaned from her position in Clarice's arms and he bit his lip. Then, as gently as possible, he sent out an order for everyone to go to sleep.

As one the people in the square laid down and closed their eyes. He could feel his nose and ears begin to bleed from the effort. When the last person had laid down Charles released them, slumping. Azazel steadied him and Charles struggled to remain conscious. He wasn't going to be able to for much longer.

He looked up at Erik, whose eyes regarded him coldly.

"Find them Erik," he pleaded.

Erik's eyebrows shot up. If he had the chance Charles would have punched him. He could tell feigned surprise and confusion when he saw them. It made his mind cry out and revolt, because he knew that Erik knew that he meant those who had started the fight. People had died that day and, for the second time in a month, his friend was going to let his actions be consumed by hatred and ignore what he knew was right.

He wondered if he communicated his emotions in his look. He couldn't tell for sure, but he could see Erik hesitate. Finally the look of confusion ebbed away.

"I will Charles," Erik said.

Charles managed a weak smile before he passed out. Perhaps everything wasn't as hopeless as it seemed.

* * *

"We're **not** happy."

Alex looked up from his hospital bed and winced. His parents were standing nearby. His mother looked angry but there were tears in her eyes. It probably had something to do with the cast on his arm. His father just looked angry. Tears or no tears from his mother, he could tell that he was in for the grounding of his life.

His only comfort was that Sean and Hank were probably being given the same lecture from their parents. Unlike him they hadn't been injured. After being treated for shock they had both been taken home. In Hank's case his father had managed to treat him and take him home in one fell swoop.

"It was irresponsible," his mother said, "You lied about where you were."

His father's jaw clenched at his mother's words.

"You were nearly killed!" his mother said.

"I didn't know people would be trying to kill me!" Alex protested.

"No, and that's the thing," his father said, "**You didn't know**. You went entirely unprepared to an event that you knew next to nothing about in an unfamiliar part of the city. And you dragged Sean down with you!"

In normal circumstances Alex wouldn't dream of answering back to his father. However, he was taking things too far.

"I didn't drag Sean anywhere," Alex said, "He wanted to go!"

"But you suggested it, didn't you?" his father said.

Alex said nothing. His mother sighed.

"At least you left Scott behind," she said.

At last, something that he'd done right in his parent's eyes.

"He was too young," Alex said.

His father's eyebrows shot up.

"**He's **too young?" asked his father, "You and Sean were too young too! You and that other boy you were with-"

"Hank," Alex said.

His father glared and Alex shrank back into his bed.

"You didn't even ask us to go," his mother said.

"I knew you'd say no," Alex mumbled.

"If you knew then why did you do it?" his father demanded.

Alex swallowed. He knew that he was probably only digging himself in deeper, but he had to say something in his defense, even if it was pitiful.

"I had to do something," he said.

Tears were starting to well up in his eyes and he forced them away.

"They're going to take you away," he said, "I can't let them do that…not if I can do **something **about it, anything at all…"

Despite himself he began to cry. At thirteen years old Alex considered himself a very mature child. However, it had been a long and fearful day. He'd run away to a protest in a euphoria of trying to save his family, nearly been killed, had his arm broken, been put under by a telepath, and now he had to justify himself to his parents.

He felt his mother's arms around his shoulders, careful of his broken arm. His father put his hand on his head and Alex looked up at them.

"It hasn't passed yet," his father said.

"But what if it does?" asked Alex.

"One step at a time Alex," his mother whispered, "One step at a time."

* * *

Erik sat at his desk, drafting out his address. He'd have to give it to the press in five hours and he couldn't quite get the words right. While he excelled in off-the-cuff speaking he'd always had trouble when he'd had to write a speech down. It had always been easier when Charles was helping him.

He snorted at the thought. Even if the pious Charles had felt inclined to help him, or throw his uninvited opinion in, he couldn't. He was still unconscious. He'd had to have been collected by Moira, who looked almost panic stricken by what had happened. Charles would be fine in a few hours though. Him and Emma.

Charles' absence was felt keenly as the crowd was dispersed and the attackers, who apparently called themselves The Brotherhood, were put in jail. With both him and Emma out of comission they'd been hard pressed to find a telepath that could extract the necessary information from them. It was beyond frustrating.

There was so much about the situation that frustrated him. Of course it would be the side that he was supporting that would attack a peaceful demonstration. It was going to look bad and, despite what others might think, he detested what had happened. No one should have to live in fear of stating their opinion.

Frustrated with his latest attempt at a speech he crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it over his shoulder. Another page of blank paper stared at him as he pounded it with his pen, searching for words. As he did so he heard the door creak open. Slamming down the pen he swiveled in his chair to face the intruder.

"What do you want?" he growled.

Susanna began to take a step backward before she checked herself. The motion made him angry. His own wife was acting like he was insane and dangerous, like he'd hurt her if he had the chance. Why couldn't she see what he was doing? Why couldn't she trust him like she always had in the past?

He blamed the brief, at least in part. Erik could have explained it to her without the initial panic clouding her judgment. That combined with her soft heart had meant that he'd never had a chance. He'd questioned all of the aides closely about how it had made it into her paperwork. None of them had been able to come up with an answer.

Erik had his suspicions, and most of them rested on Charles. He was the only other one with the knowledge of the briefs and other information that was handed out to do it. With his telepathic abilities he could also insure that no one would remember that they had changed the information within the briefs.

It didn't seem like something Charles would do, but there were very few other explanations. Now he tiptoed around his wife, each meeting leaving him somewhere on the precipice between trying to win her over gently and shouting. It was better if he just avoided it altogether. He couldn't take another minute of the way she looked at him now. It wasn't accusing, and it wasn't mad. It would have been better if it was. Instead her gaze was just sad and lost.

It reminded him too much of their first months of marriage.

"I heard about today," Susanna said.

"Did you?" he said, folding his hands, "It was unfortunate."

Susanna blinked at him.

"Seven people died," she said.

Her words sent him straight back to the precipice that he'd been teetering on since they'd had their fight several days before.

"Yes. I'm writing a speech about it right now," he said, "Anything else that I already know that you'd like to say?"

She bit her lip, not meeting his eyes.

"Only that you could stop this," she said, "If you really wanted to. Stop it before it goes any further."

Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Are you blaming me for today?" he snapped.

"No," Susanna said, her voice soothing, "today wasn't your fault. You don't…you don't advocate what happened here and…you went out to stop it."

Her quiet voice brought the precipice closer, his blood boiling in his veins to steam out the guilt. He knew just how close he'd been to telling Charles and Emma to go while he stayed behind. He still remembered how it had felt when he'd arrived and realized that things were much worse than he'd thought, and how some part of him hadn't wanted to stop it.

Erik didn't want to be reminded of that.

"Again," he said, his jaw clenched, "is there anything else that I already know that you'd like to say?"

Susanna took a deep breath.

"You can stop it Erik," she said.

Erik pushed himself from his chair and strode over to her. Again she flinched and Erik saw red. He fell from the edge of the precipice and plummeted downwards.

"If you're so upset about all of this," he hissed, "why don't you just leave?"

The room echoed with his words, giving him a sickening feeling in his gut. Susanna looked as though he'd struck her. She swallowed and, for the first time since she'd entered the room, her eyes sought out his. Tears gathered there but, unlike her broken posture, there was still defiance in them, defiance fueled by something else.

"Never," she whispered.

A warm feeling flared inside him before it was squashed by anger. He turned his back on her and went back to his desk.

"Then go back to what you were doing and leave me to my work!" he snapped.

There was a split second of silence. Then he heard Susanna's soft footfalls head towards the door. He began to feel sick to his stomach as he heard the door hinges creak. There were a few more soft noises as it she opened and closed it behind her. As soon as it was closed he buried his head in his hands.


	31. Chapter 31

June 4, 1960

Lorna could tell that her mother was hurt. She never said anything to her; her mother never did when she was upset. Instead she kept on pretending that everything was alright, that nothing at all was wrong. To anyone else she'd seem fine, but Lorna had lived with her for too long to be fooled by it. She'd been exposed to it almost daily during her childhood.

She knew it wasn't her fault though. Lorna was smart enough to go over her actions before her mother became upset. The worst thing she'd done was sneak an extra cookie. Although she knew that type of behavior exasperated her mother, it didn't hurt her. So whatever was hurting her wasn't her fault.

For a while she'd toyed with the idea that it was her father's fault. She knew her mother saw him more than Lorna did, so something could have happened. She ended up dismissing it though. Her father and mother were very much in love. If you loved someone you didn't hurt them, or so she'd read.

This had actually given her what she figured was an epiphany. Her father and mother liked being around each other. Her mother liked seeing Lorna and her father together. Her father was too busy to be around them much. Lorna was upset about it. So she made what she considered an astounding leap of logic. What was hurting her mother wasn't her father, not really. It was just how little time he had with them and how upset it was making Lorna.

She'd cringed since, by that train of thought, her mother's sadness was partially her fault. Lorna had been too upset recently, not understanding enough. So she endeavored to ask her mother less about her father, to ask the X-men if she had a question. Her mother was nervous around them, although Lorna didn't know why. Neena could be a pain sometimes, especially when Rahne was over, but most of the time she was fun.

Even so her mother's mood seemed to worsen as time went by. It was, in part, aggravated by events. Charles had been hurt in the square. Rahne had been beside herself when that happened. Although he'd been fine after a little bit Lorna wondered how easily that could have happened to her own father.

So her mother was upset and Lorna was realizing there was little she could do about it. She wished she could talk to her father about what was happening, but if he was available then there wouldn't be a problem in the first place. Her father always seemed smart, too smart to be fooled by her mother's fake happy face. He must know that there was a problem.

He might not be able to help it though. After several years she was starting to understand that being a King wasn't all about ordering spindles to be burned and mattresses to be stacked on top of peas. The more she read the more she realized that her father had a lot of responsibilities, ones that periodically took him away from his family.

It was a lot for a child to digest, too much information to sift through. It was still going through her head on the day she went over to Rahne's house. Charles had been well enough to go back to work a day or two earlier, and Lorna missed Rahne terribly. She wanted someone who could explain what was happening. She doubted that Rahne would be that person, she was the same age as her, but it would be nice for someone else to share her puzzlement.

Lorna held her mother's hand as they got out of the car. She risked a glance up at her. Her mother wasn't dressing like she normally did. Instead of putting her hair up it was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She didn't have any of her usual pretty jewelry on. All she wore was an old silver rose necklace that Lorna remembered from before they came to Genosha. Even her clothes seemed to have less of thier brilliant patterns.

Rahne's mother opened the door and she went inside. Almost immediately she ran into Rahne and the two of them hurried up the stairs to her room. At the last step Lorna paused. She peeked down at where her mother was getting tea with Rahne's mother. She looked tired, and the fake smile was still on her face. Lorna sighed in disappointment.

"Somethin' wrong?" asked Rahne.

She looked back at her mother before gesturing to Rahne's room. The two went inside.

"My mom's upset about something," Lorna said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, "Really upset. I haven't seen her this upset since we came to Genosha."

"She looked fine," Rahne frowned, taking a seat.

Lorna shook her head.

"She's not. I can tell," she said.

Rahne paused and scratched her ear. Her friend always had a funny habit of curling her fingers inwards before she did so.

"There was that rally," Rahne said at last, "That was bad. Lots of people got hurt."

Her friend's eyes flashed with worry, perhaps thinking of her father. Lorna shook her head, eager to stop the subject before she worried her friend as well as her mother.

"It was before that," said Lorna, "I think she misses my dad."

"What do you mean?" asked Rahne, "He hasn't gone anywhere, has he?"

Lorna shook her head again.

"No," she said, "but he's always so busy and we don't see much of him."

"Same here," Rahne said.

She cocked her head.

"This new law thing that's happening has my parents out all the time, trying to make sure it doesn't happen," Rahne said, "Aunt Raven has to babysit me and David a lot."

"What law thing?" asked Lorna.

"It's this thing that's gonna separate a whole bunch of kids from their parents," said Rahne, "My friend Carly will have to leave if it goes through."

"Why?" asked Lorna.

"Because she's human, I think," Rahne said, "They won't tell me much about it, and I haven't seen Carly in a while."

There was a slight pause.

"That sounds bad," Lorna said.

"I know," Rahne said.

Lorna chewed her tongue in thought before sitting bolt upright. Their parents had been away working on political stuff for a while before. Granted, this had been longer than they'd experienced before, but Lorna figured that there was no real timeline that they could work with. It all made sense if she thought of it that way.

"Maybe that's it then! It's just another law," she said, "When that's over, and they've gotten rid of it like they always do, everything will be fine. And my parents will be around more."

"Yeah," said Rahne.

Her voice was doubtful.

"What's wrong?" asked Lorna.

"I don't know," Rahne said, "I just…I don't know."

Rahne shook her head and got to her feet. It was clear that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Lorna was only too glad to oblige.

"Anyway," she said, "Let's play Monopoly. I need some real practice if I'm gonna beat Doug tomorrow."

* * *

Moira looked over at Susanna with concern. She'd left the room to get them tea and peeked back, intending to ask if she wanted some cakes that Raven had brought home the other day. In her absence Susanna had slumped down and closed her eyes, looking more tired than any woman her age had a right to be.

As soon as she'd heard Moira coming though she'd perked up, looking as though nothing were wrong. Moira placed the tea on the coffee table, going back for the cakes. She wanted to ask Susanna what was wrong, but she knew that there was a time and place for everything. She'd just have to find the right time.

"How's David coming along?" Susanna asked.

"Great," Moira said, "He's fussy, but we figure it's only natural. With…work being what it is Raven's had to watch over him for a while."

Susanna had made it clear that they couldn't talk politics a few weeks ago. Moira understood why she was doing it, trying to keep some level of normality up for their children. At the same time she couldn't fathom why Susanna was on Erik's side. He was her husband, but Susanna couldn't agree with what was happening.

Having Charles teleported home from the rally by Azazel just hammered home how bad things were getting. He'd been deeply hurt by his friend's betrayal, but he'd never actually been in danger. Moira's heart had skipped a beat when she'd seen how slumped over he was. He'd slept for a full day straight, his quiet breathing the only sign that he was still among the living. Even after he woke up his headache had prevented him from leaving bed for another day.

"At that age they tend to be," Susanna said, "Just wait until he starts talking."

"I thought that would make it easier," Moira said.

"Not really," Susanna said, "It just means that they start making demands."

She laughed to herself.

"I remember a little after Lorna started talking," Susanna said, "and Erik was reading her a story. You know, Cinderella."

Moira had a hard time picturing Erik doing that, but she knew Susanna better than to think that she'd made it up.

"He was never a big one for the traditional fairytales, so he started changing it around," Susanna said.

That she could picture.

"He started talking about how Cinderella left one of her pumpkins at the ball instead of her shoes," Susanna said, "And this is a story she's heard before. So Lorna starts screaming no over and over again until he said it the 'right way'."

Moira smiled and Susanna let out another laugh. Leaning over Moira picked up one of the cakes and took a bite out of it.

"I asked him why he did it and he said he wanted to see if she caught on," Susanna said, "And…and…"

Susanna trailed off. Moira looked up from her cake and saw that Susanna had started crying silently. Swallowing Moira got up and sat next to her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Moira.

Susanna shook her head, covering her eyes and bowing her head.

"It's nothing," she said.

Moira put a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with concern.

"It's obviously not nothing," she said, "Now, what's wrong? I won't tell anyone."

Susanna sniffled, her eyes still fixed on the ground. She did take her hand away from her face though, which Moira took as a good sign.

"I…I didn't know what the new law was until a few days ago," she said.

Moira let out a small gasp of air. Susanna chuckled, but the sound was weak.

"I know, right?" she said, "The Queen of Genosha being so ignorant. What a joke."

"How did you…how did you not know?" asked Moira.

"Erik asked me not to look into it…to trust him," Susanna said.

Gears began turning in her head. She felt a wave of disgust at Erik, and she'd thought that she couldn't think more poorly of him after what he'd been putting Charles through.

"We all assumed he told you," Moira said.

"Well, he didn't," Susanna said, "And…how can I support something like that?"

Moira remained silent. So much of the past few weeks slowly began to make sense.

"So, now he has a hard time being in the room with me," Susanna said, "Every time I walk in…he just can't look at me, can't…can't even say anything…"

Susanna sighed, wiping away another wave of tears. Moira had seen Erik in the midst of political debates, his words heated and his eyes filled with rage. She couldn't imagine it being directed at Susanna, but obviously it had been. It was plain to see that she'd been hurt very badly. Her tears were proof of it.

Moira reached over and took a napkin from the table for her eyes, which Susanna gratefully accepted.

"I keep trying to reach him," she said, "But the last time I tried…he…"

Moira swallowed, knowing that whatever had happened had been bad.

"What happened?" she asked.

Susanna took a shuddering breath.

"He told me I should leave."

The heavy emphasis on Susanna's words informed Moira immediately that he hadn't been talking about the room. Moira stared, her brain trying to catch up with the information.

"I know what you're thinking," Susanna said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I know what anyone would think. That if things are this bad then maybe I should."

"I didn't-" Moira began, feeling guilty since the thought had crossed her mind.

Susanna shook her head.

"It's okay," she said.

With a shuddering breath Susanna looked up and met Moira's eyes.

"I've never been like you," Susanna said, "I've never had this idea of climbing mountains when I was younger. My parents died very early for me and I was tossed around from hospital to hospital, no relatives and no money even to get me back to the States. My dreams were never big things; I was never ambitious."

She sighed but continued to make eye contact.

"All I wanted," Susanna said, "was the ability to help others in my place, and to have a family and happiness again. It's doesn't sound like much, but it was all I wanted."

Moira sat, not daring to say a word. Susanna wiped away her tears and continued.

"I always knew Erik had darkness in him, self-destructive and angry tendencies," she said, "And I tried to love all of him, because that's what love is. You can't seperate the good and the bad, not if you really love a person. You love them all and you try to help with what you can. I'm not sure if he sees it that way."

Tears began to gather in Moira's eyes as Susanna breathed in again.

"But I know," she said, "that no matter how much he tries to push me away the last thing he wants is for me to leave. He's scared of that, scared of losing things. He loves me, even if he may not remember it at the moment. My leaving would kill him."

She gave a watery smile.

"And I still love him too much to hurt him," she said.

Slowly Susanna got up.

"I'm going to go clean up," she said, "Thank you for listening."

"Any time," Moira said.

Susanna nodded and walked away. Moira watched her leave, her mind pulsing with the new information. She had never imagined that things would get this bad, not even when she first heard the news of the law. She'd held Charles while he'd told her that his dream was falling apart, that he was losing the friend he had run and fought with. However, while Erik's betrayal was hurting Charles, it was plain to see that it was killing Susanna.


	32. Chapter 32

June 10, 1960

"The time for arguing is past," Erik said, his voice irritable, "The law goes up for the vote at the end of the month."

Charles shook his head. He winced as he did so, his exertions from the square catching up with him. Slowly he closed his eyes before opening them again to quell his headache. Charles had been prepared, to some extent, for the mental whiplash that his stunt at the rally would cause. He didn't know that it would leave him so mentally exhausted though. Over a week later and he was still having dizzy spells and trouble sleeping.

Moira had been a great help. The presence of a familiar mind so close acted to soothe his mental fluctuations. Sometimes when he was asleep his powers would spike and he'd end up dreaming the same dream as she did. She'd been very understanding of the situation, more understanding than he had a right to considering what his powers were doing. At least it was only happening in the night when he wasn't in control.

Across from him Emma sat with her head in her hands. Her condition seemed to be like his, only it was followed with long bouts of disorientation. Azazel and Clarice had stood by her to ensure that she didn't faint or run into anything, but Clarice was no longer allowed in the cabinet room due to her new position. Emma's very presence in the cabinet room seemed to be somewhat controversial since her ability to contribute was greatly diminished. She seemed to have difficulty keeping her eyes open.

Focusing on the task at hand Charles looked around the cabinet room. It was a small meeting, one of the last ditch efforts to work something out. He knew that Erik was simply there as a formality. Astra, a member of the parliamentary faction who backed the passage of the bill, had her arms crossed. Two of Erik's X-men supporters who held cabinet positions, Dominikos and Arthur, were there with him. Arthur looked somewhat uncomfortable but Dominikos looked as determined as Erik.

That same determination was mirrored by Azazel, only his look was darker and his reasons different. Emma was hard to read, but he knew that she'd be behind Azazel no matter what happened. It seemed strange that he'd end up counting on those two, considering how many times they'd been on opposite sides in the past. It just went to show.

Representing the faction that supported him was Benjamin Grey. The man was intelligent, but seemed to be nervous to be the only human in the room. Charles couldn't blame him. Dominikos and Astra had been giving him poorly disguised looks of disdain since he entered. He was bearing up remarkably well for what was happening.

Feeling tired he got to his feet and stared at his friend, hoping that he could still call him by that title.

"It's never too late," Charles said, "The continued protests despite what happened in the rally just prove that this law will ruin more than just a few lives."

"It's not going to ruin anything," Dominikos grunted, "It'll save lives, if anything."

Astra nodded, giving Dominikos a fond look. Charles took a deep breath.

"We just can't trust humans," Dominikos finished.

"That is very general statement," Azazel said.

"It's true," Dominikos said.

Azazel snorted. His eyes raked over the rest of the cabinet.

"So, this is what you all believe?" he asked.

"Of course," Astra snapped.

Arthur hesitated before shaking his head.

"I'll…I'll admit that I've found good humans," he said, his voice unsteady, "And…I know that this will affect some of those badly. I wish it didn't. But…there's no real screening process we can use and on the whole we really can't accept the risk that they present."

Dominikos shook his head.

"You're too naïve Arthur," he said.

"And you are too stupid," Azazel said.

Dominikos got to his feet.

"You wanna do this you red bastard?" he snapped.

Azazel narrowed his eyes, his lips curling back into a snarl.

"Oh always," he said.

"Stop it, both of you," Charles said, his voice sharp.

Azazel's expression stayed the same but Dominikos sat down. After a moment Azazel folded his hands behind his back and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"You believe all humans bad, correct?"

"I said that, didn't I?" snapped Dominikos.

Azazel smirked and looked over at Charles before redirecting his attention to Dominikos.

"Well, now you have just insulted MP Benjamin Grey-" Azazel said.

"We can count me out. I'm past taking this talk from his sort personally," Benjamin said, drumming his fingers on the table.

Dominikos' eyes narrowed and Charles had to wonder at Benjamin's newfound courage. It may have been caused by the thought of having to leave his daughter behind one day.

"-and Commander Summers of Hellions," Azazel continued, not skipping a beat, "Director Xavier of Intelligence and-"

He smirked and looked at Erik.

"-our Queen."

There was a long pause. Dominikos turned slightly pale and Astra raised an eyebrow. Arthur shot a worried look around the table while Emma kept her head buried in her hands. Charles looked over at Erik, who was breathing deeply. He didn't know who he was angry at, Dominikos or Azazel. Charles had the feeling it was a bit of both.

"We are ending this line of discussion," Erik said, his voice cold, "And everyone, **everyone**, is going to leave my wife out of this. Understood?"

Dominikos nodded, but Azazel's smirk just widened. A sinking feeling started in Charles' gut.

"What is Queen's opinion on this, I wonder?" Azazel asked.

"I said we were going to leave her out of this," snapped Erik.

"Nyet, it is something to consider," Azazel said, "High-ranking men and women of Genosha are humans. Many. One would think, with two such women married to most powerful men on island, this would not happen, da?"

Charles could practically feel Erik's rage pouring from the other end of the table. They had long since moved past the point when every time Erik got angry metal would crunch around him. However, if Azazel didn't shut his mouth he was worried Erik would start consciously using his powers. That would be worse.

"That's enough Azazel," Charles said.

Azazel tilted his head at him.

"I am simply curious why we have nyet statement from her on such matter," he said.

"Azazel, stop," Charles said, his voice sharp.

"Well who cares?" Astra snapped, "She has no political clout in this sphere and, as Azazel pointed out, she's a human. Of course she wouldn't agree."

Erik whipped around and pointed towards the door.

"Out," he hissed.

"What-?" began Astra.

"Out!" he thundered.

Looking horrified Astra scurried out of the room. Her words had obviously struck a sore spot for Erik, something that had not gone unnoticed by the others in the room.

"So she does not agree," Azazel said.

"If you must know, no, she doesn't," Erik snapped, "Someone decided to let her know in the most indecorous way possible."

Erik directed his glare to Charles. Charles blinked, wondering just when his friend had lost his mind.

"You think I did it?" asked Charles.

"The way it was set up, there doesn't seem to be another option," Erik growled.

Charles looked around the room at the inquiring glances from both sides of the table. Only Emma remained with her eyes covered. He could feel his own headache worsening.

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about," Charles said.

"No, you do," Erik said, "I remember what you said when you found out about this."

Charles considered for a moment and winced. Yes, the reference to Susanna could be taken badly. However, Charles knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in the right. Whatever marital problems Erik was having as a result of the new law were not his fault.

He almost phrased it as such, but thought better of it.

"I did no such thing," Charles said, "You'll remember that I wasn't even the one who forced this break!"

"So it's my fault for trying to protect Genosha?"

"You're not protecting it!" Charles snapped.

"It's better than rolling over and letting the world step on us!" Erik said.

"Would it help if I just told you who did it?"

As one both men looked at Emma. She had raised her head, resting her chin on her folded hands. She looked annoyed and her lips were pursed.

"Well?" she asked.

Erik nodded, almost imperceptibly. Emma glanced around the room.

"I'd like everyone else out," she said, "I'm not feeling my best and I'd prefer not to have a big audience for it."

Dominikos looked at Erik, who nodded again. Azazel gripped Emma's shoulder briefly before leaving the room with Benjamin. As the people filed out Charles could feel his headache decrease slightly, probably due to the decreasing amount of spectators. Emma waited a few seconds after the door closed before she cocked her head.

"I did it," she said.

Erik gaped and Charles blinked.

"What?" asked Charles.

"I slipped a new brief in her folders. I have my ways," Emma said, "And don't look at me like that Charles; you know what kind of person I am."

The metal table contorted violently. Emma moved her elbows off it, looking undisturbed.

"Why?" demanded Erik, "Why the hell would you do something like that?"

Emma folded her hands in her lap, wincing and blinking from her headache. Charles wondered how aware of the world around her she was at the moment. He'd nearly drained her to silence the rally. Perhaps it was warping her vision of reality somehow.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked.

She didn't wait for anyone to answer.

"I play dirty," Emma muttered, "I figured having your wife upset about it might moderate you somewhat. Evidently not."

The table twisted even further. Emma didn't seem to notice, rubbing her temples. Even so Charles took a step next to Emma, his gaze hardening. He didn't approve of what she'd done, but her careless way of announcing it was sure to get her killed. He wasn't about to let Erik hurt her.

"Erik, no," Charles said.

"Do you have any idea what she's done?" snarled Erik.

"I understand you're angry, but-" Charles began.

"It was your fault to begin with," Emma said, putting her second hand up opposite of her first, "You were the one who dragged her into Genosha and now you're not even taking responsibility for what that entails."

She leaned back, heedless of her surroundings.

"You wanted a sheltered little wife who wasn't going to argue with you and do whatever you said no matter what," Emma said, "Well, I'm sorry to remind you that your wife might feel more than just a little hurt and betrayed about an act that targets her entire species. Just a thought."

The sound of twisting metal filled the air and Charles put a hand on Emma's shoulder.

"He's just upset because I'm telling the truth," she said.

"You need to leave," he said, "Right now."

Emma shrugged and got up to the door. Erik looked as though he were considering stopping her, his hand raising. The metal in the door started to rattle. Charles shook his head pleadingly. The gesture seemed to allow him to remember himself. Erik hesitated and Emma left the room, clutching her head.

When the door closed Charles turned back to him.

"What she did was wrong," Charles said, his voice quiet, "I'm not arguing that. But hurting her would solve nothing."

"You always say that, always think that fighting solves nothing," Erik snapped, "Fighting is what got us Genosha."

"And being logical and moderating our rule is what allowed us to keep it," Charles said.

Erik turned away from him. He waved his hand and the table restored itself before his hand clenched into a fist. Charles took a seat, feeling shaken from the past few minutes. His headache was returning with a vengeance. All he wanted to do was find a dark, quiet room somewhere that he could lay his head down and sleep.

Duty called though, duty and friendship. He looked up at Erik who, to his surprise, was looking at him as well.

"Tell me that you're not certain you want to take this course," Charles pleaded, "Please tell me you have some doubts, even if they're just small ones."

Erik looked down, his face contorting. Charles waited, feeling his heart pound in his throat. His friend sighed and tilted his head up, looking tired. He opened his mouth and for a minute Charles thought he was going to say something. Then he closed it and walked out, leaving Charles alone in the room.


	33. Chapter 33

June 17, 1960

Erik examined a strand of white hair in between his fingers. It had come loose when he was scratching the back of his head in exasperation over the latest missive. White hairs weren't uncommon to him; he led a highly stressful lifestyle and a dusting of white was starting to show beneath his normal brown.

However, this was one that had been caused by the latest crisis. More and more he found them. He'd been under the impression that the stress was getting to Charles too. He believed that there was a slight thinning in Charles' hair, but he couldn't be sure without asking, and even then he'd have to phrase the question in the form of a joke. Saying that he was concerned about Charles' health often had mixed results. He couldn't though. They were no longer on the level that he could do that.

He sighed and flicked the hair over his shoulder. The days had been long and the nights longer. Susanna had stayed in their room, although he made sure that he didn't run into her during the day. The first night after their argument he'd taken one look at her, still awake despite everything, and left.

After that she'd made sure to be asleep when he came in, curled up so tightly so that there was no way that their limbs might accidentally brush. It angered him that he repulsed her so, but it made things easier. The less contact they had the less chance she got to cry and ask him why he was doing what he was.

Not that he was sleeping much in his own room anymore. There was too much work to be done, and increasingly he found himself falling asleep at his desk. He'd even started bringing a pillow. That too made things easier, because it meant that no one could see the nightmares that were starting to creep into his head.

They had started shortly after his fight with Charles over the introduction of the law. It wasn't much, just him waking up with a vague sense of foreboding. The foreboding had reached a point that it made him nauseous on occasion after Susanna had found out. Only after rally had images been introduced.

They'd been simple; flames that had ignited and licked up the main square, followed by the wailing of protesters in the streets. Death was a common feature in his life, but guilt wasn't an emotion that he was accustomed too. He killed anyone who threatened him or others and moved on. They would have killed him if they'd had the chance, and as a soldier, friend, husband, father, and leader in most cases the decision had been made for him.

The guilt over the deaths of the mutants and humans at the rally were deep and chilling. It hadn't been his fault, not really. He hadn't gone down with Bishop and the other terrorists and started indiscriminately killing people. However, if he hadn't given the act his support than no one would have been in the square in the first place.

To some extent he knew that it was the nagging burden he had to bear as a politician. Sometimes the laws he introduced would cause misery and suffering. As long as they were for the common good, as long as something came out of it, then he could soothe that guilt and tell himself to move on.

He couldn't get over it though. Over the course of time he had started to have niggling doubts about what he was doing. The people who were standing with him were not necessarily the people that he would have wanted. His friend of nearly a decade had stepped away from him, as well as several of his original followers.

The situation was also radically different. He'd come to see most political situations as something that people became rivals over but went for lunch afterwards. This wasn't that kind of situation. People were becoming bitter enemies and quickly, more so than they ever had over any sort of mutant and sapien relations. Azazel was ready to kill Dominikos, and Astra had taken to referring to Benjamin Grey in depreciating terms in public missives, and fights had nearly broken out outside of parliament.

It made sense that his subconscious was trying to tell him this, perhaps open his eyes to seeing what the law was causing. He could see now that the law wasn't just going to cause humans to leave Genosha. It was going to cause people to be killed or injured over their stance on it, friendships to be obliterated, relationships destroyed, and the government would grind to a halt. No wonder he was having nightmares.

The nightmares had also taken a quieter, though more horrific, turn as the days went by. They always started with him going to his room to find it empty, the drawers hastily ransacked and Susanna's possessions gone. He'd go down the hall to find the same thing in Lorna's room. After all, Susanna would never leave her daughter behind.

He'd always wake up after that and never be quite sure that it hadn't happened. He'd force himself to check and, despite his misgivings, Susanna would always be asleep in their room. Lorna would be snuggled under her blanket. Nothing would have changed and he'd go back to his office.

Bitterly he knew it would serve him right if the dreams were true. If Susanna had left and taken Lorna with her then she'd be in the right. He had told her to leave. At the same time he knew that it was only that inner belief she held that he loved her and their daughter and her defiance that led her to stay.

It had shone in her eyes the day after their wedding and the weeks after that before she'd whittled her way into his heart. Her determination to stay with him had made no sense. Love could only go so far and he knew how fleeting it could be. When its foundation was built on compassion, as he knew Susanna's was, it apparently turned to iron.

Even so he knew there was a limit and that could feel that he was fast reaching that. Susanna might never leave him, she had said so herself, but he knew there were other ways to lose someone even though they were with you. He was starting to recognize that this looked like it was a betrayal to her, and that was where his doubts had begun. If she was feeling betrayed by it, then Charles probably was too. And, again, they would have a right to those feelings.

He could recognize that he'd broken his promise to Charles. He'd said four years ago that this wouldn't happen and now he was making it happen. Erik had been under the impression that that particular promise had been made for the conditions they were in at the time. He'd thought that, with changing conditions, he could break his word if it meant the betterment of their country. It had been foolish to think that Charles would grasp that.

As for Susanna, his promise had been made rather further back than that. They'd had a court wedding, but he'd still promised to love and honor her. Back then the promise of love was one that had had to be worked on, that would come true at a later date. And no matter what he'd said he still loved her. He hadn't broken his word.

He was starting to see how he was failing to honor her though. What was the public thinking about his actions of supporting an anti-sapien law when his own wife was one? He'd seen many tabloids point out how protected she was. He'd seen others that were rife with more sinister speculation. It was the exact opposite of honoring.

Blankly Erik stared at the forms in front of him. The law was going up for the vote in less than what promised to be two bitter weeks. He'd given it his support. More than that, he still believed that it was for the good of Genosha. He wouldn't have supported it in the first place if he hadn't.

He'd learned that he had to take himself out of politics. His own personal struggles shouldn't figure into how he voted. He had to decide what he thought was best regardless of what was going on with his life. From the very beginning the law had had his support, and now it was almost going to go through. It was too late for him to turn back.

Sighing he picked up his pen again and began reading the forms. His fingers were starting to ache, as they often did, from the pressure he was putting on the pen. Another migraine was well on its way and he reached for more aspirin, throwing a few pills into his mouth. He flipped the first form over and was just about to start on another when he heard a knock on the door.

Feeling irritable he waved the door open, the metal clicking. He turned his head over his shoulder, expecting to see Neena or Dominikos. Instead he saw Lorna in her nightgown and slippers, her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. He turned fully to face her, blinking with surprise. She should have been in bed several hours ago.

Lorna bit her lip and looked around the room.

"I can't sleep," she said.

He waited, wondering if she was going to elaborate further. When she didn't he said;

"And?"

"Mom's already asleep so I didn't want to wake her," Lorna said, "And the library's really far away and…"

Her voice trailed off. Erik wished that, after over three years of having his daughter in his presence again, he knew what to say in such situations. Instead he gestured to the small sofa in the room. Lorna nodded and quickly hopped into it, tucking her knees underneath her chin. Her green eyes remained fixed on him though.

With a wave of his hand he shut the door. Lorna's eyes followed the gesture.

"I wish I could do that," she said.

"One day you will," Erik assured her, "You're just young."

Young and untraumatized. At her age he'd bent a fence under the right conditions, but he'd die before he put her through that.

"I guess," Lorna said, "Rahne's really good at her power though."

"She's had it longer," Erik assured her.

Lorna smiled and cocked her head.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked.

He made a dismissive gesture.

"Just work Lorna," he said, "Nothing new."

His daughter chewed her lip again.

"You've got a lot of that," she ventured.

Her voice was nervous and he frowned.

"Something wrong Lorna?" he asked.

Lorna looked down and took a deep breath. When she looked up again she looked slightly less anxious and more determined. Although she had her mother's eyes and an early promise of her looks and grace, staring at her when she had her mind set on something was almost like looking into a mirror.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," she said.

Erik's frown deepened before he realized that, yes, it was true. He'd been trying to avoid Susanna because of their argument but he realized that somewhere along the road he'd begun to avoid his daughter too. He wanted to chalk it up to his work, but the more he thought about it the more he realized that, yes, he'd been making an effort to not see his daughter.

The reasons as to why he'd done so were lost on him, until he realized that he'd probably been trying to forget his fights with Susanna. He'd been trying to ignore yet another source of guilt, and that in itself made him feel sick. Lorna had nothing to do with her parent's arguments and immediately a new cause for guilt made itself known.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Lorna said, "I know you're busy and stuff…I just miss you."

Her voice trembled a bit at the end and Erik was struck by the realization that his daughter hadn't had trouble sleeping. She'd just missed him and had been looking for an excuse to see him. As the guilt reaching a new zenith he got up. His back ached but he sat beside her. Erik put a hand on her shoulder and Lorna looked up at him.

"I'm sorry," Lorna said, "I shouldn't have bothered you."

"No," Erik said, making sure that his voice was gentle, "There's nothing to apologize for Lorna. Nothing at all."

He sighed.

"I know all this is hard for you," he said, "It's not just like a story book."

Lorna didn't say anything, but he knew it was true. She hadn't been born into the role she possessed, so there had been no way to get her ready for it and no way for her to know what it would entail. He wasn't sure what she would have become if the fates hadn't suddenly turned the world upside down. However, they had, and now she was in a position where one day she would have a great deal of political power vested in her.

"And I know you're looking at me and thinking that it's going to be all work," Erik said, "And in part it is. Work, sacrifice, and duty."

She continued to stare at him as he sought out the right words.

"Sometimes you're going to have to give up the things you want," Erik said.

His family wasn't a want though, and they weren't a thing. Neither was the safety of his people. Looking at Lorna's curious face he felt himself force his next few words out.

"And I know it sounds unfair," he said, "but there are rewards."

"Like you getting me and mom back," Lorna said.

A lump formed in his throat and he nodded.

"And you get to help people," Lorna said.

He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

"I know that's why you're gone so much, why you're busy all the time," Lorna said, "You're helping people, right?"

The question was guileless, no sinister implications. It was just a question that Lorna thought she already knew the answer to. It was only his daughter trying to make sense of what was probably too much information too fast. Just like her lessons on controlling her mutations he'd have to teach her to play the political game. He wasn't looking forward to involving her in the sullying mire of politics, but it needed to be done.

However, she had still asked him the question and he was duty bound as a father to answer it. Erik looked down into her green eyes, still awash with childhood innocence. They were eyes that had never seen pain on the level that he had, and he prayed they never would. There was admiration in them and he knew that she saw him as her hero, the man who'd rescued her and her mother from a life of hardship and taken them to rule a country.

He knew better than anyone that there came a point where childhood ended. That perfect innocence faded in defense of the world around a person, and pain found a way to weasel into anyone's life. As time passed on people would always disappoint. There would always come a day when heroes fell.

However, looking at Lorna's eyes, he decided that it would not be that day.

"That's right," he said, kissing her forehead.


	34. Chapter 34

"Charles!"

Charles moaned and looked up into his wife's face. David was suspended by a combination of her hip and arm placement as he sucked on his hand and drooled down his shirt. The fact that she hadn't tried to stop him showed him that whatever was happening was somewhat urgent. Feeling woozy he glanced at the clock next to him, which told him it was eight in the morning. Usually Charles wasn't one for sleeping in, but his exhaustion over the past few weeks and late nights meant he often found himself waking around lunch time.

This had become a well-established pattern between the two of them. Charles wondered if something was wrong with their son, because it was the only explanation he could think of for her waking him with David in hand. He opened his mouth to ask, but Moira was impatiently tugging on his wrist.

"Magnus is giving a televised announcement," she said.

Charles sat straight upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"He didn't tell me," Charles said, his voice grim as he threw on his slippers.

What he didn't say was that Erik was telling him less and less as time went on. They both knew that if he wanted to make an announcement he probably wouldn't have bothered telling Charles about it. Their new enmity had reduced Charles to finding out information at the same time every other Genoshan citizen did.

Moira knew this too, and he was grateful to her for not making a remark. She simply jerked her head in the direction of the door.

"It's going to be on any minute," she said.

Charles nodded and hurried downstairs. He passed Rahne on the way there, who was in the dining room eating cereal. Seeing both her parents hurry to the television she slid out of her seat and began trotting after them. She was only steps behind them when Charles reached the living room, only to see that static was interfering with the television's signal.

Kneeling down in front of the set Charles began turning the nobs. He almost swore in frustration, but checked himself when Rahne climbed onto the sofa. For most of his life he'd been able to swear when and where he wanted to, but he was a father now and for all of its privileges the title came with a few minor drawbacks.

Finally the picture snapped into focus. The palace's press room was lit up and he saw Erik come onto the screen. Charles withdrew slightly, balancing on his heels. He knew he should be back on the sofa with Moira, David, and Rahne, but he couldn't afford to move. His heart was beating so loudly he was surprised that he could hear the television set at all.

Erik reached the podium and looked straight into the camera. His face was set and Charles wondered what he was going to say that he hadn't said before. There had been several calls for order, some that he and Erik had even collaborated on. No matter what the political agenda politicians still had to work with people on opposite sides of the board.

"Citizens of Genosha, at the end of this month parliament will be taking a two week recess," Erik said, "But before it does it will be voting on the new Sapien Restriction law. I'm sure that most of you are aware of it and what it details."

Erik paused. Charles recognized it as a habit of his when he was making a rehearsed speech. It was much less pronounced than it had been in the past. He remembered days spent rehearsing paragraphs and lines with his friend before they attacked a major facility. Erik had always been better when he was speaking on the spot.

As though hearing Charles' thoughts Erik made a movement with his hand. Charles tilted his head and was just able to see that he was crinkling a piece of paper that was placed on the podium. Apparently he wasn't going to be sticking to the script that morning. Charles didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing yet.

"You've all heard about it and reacted differently," Erik said, "For some of you the reaction has been elation. It's understandable; many of you didn't know security because of your genes until you came to Genosha. Why would you want a reminder of the persecution you went through and the pain caused to you by sapiens?"

Charles felt his jaw tighten. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced back at his family. Moira was still holding David, but Rahne had snuggled tightly into her arms. Charles and Moira hadn't openly discussed the new law, but he knew Rahne knew about it. Her eyes were wide, and he thought he detected a hint of amber.

He turned back to the screen and saw Erik's face continue to stare forwards.

"Some have heard about it with horror," Erik said, "seeing it as something that would separate their families and take away their hard-earned peace of mind. Sapiens carried their mutant children safely to these shores, in many cases risking their very lives to do so. Why would they want that safety threatened?"

Charles cocked his head, wondering where his friend was going. He'd never acknowledged this side of the argument before.

"I admit that I belong to the first class of people, although elation may be too strong a word. You are all aware that I support this new law," Erik said, "I was never captured by the MRD myself, but I ran as many of you did and, as many more on Genosha did, fought for my right to exist. Even so…"

He shook his head and Charles began to hope, willing his friend to do the right thing.

"Even so," Erik said, "certain events must be taken into account. When I put my support behind this law I was under the impression that I was protecting the citizens of Genosha. Instead I found that this law's introduction was the reason for peaceful protestors to be attacked in the very heart of our capitol. I hear that other violent uprisings are happening around the country. And it has caused me to wonder if this is actually protecting anyone."

There were murmurs in the press room. Charles swallowed, his fingers digging into the carpet. Every single muscle in his body was tense and he bit his lip.

"Please Erik," he murmured, "Please."

Erik looked up, a wave of his hand acting to silence the room.

"I believed that this law would protect our children and future generations from the MRD," Erik said, "All it has done is cause infighting as people rush to defend their families. It's a sentiment that I can appreciate."

He tilted his head defiantly.

"And that is why as of today I am officially withdraw my support of the Sapien Restriction law," Erik said.

Chaos broke out in the press room and a laugh of relief burst from Charles' lips. They were still going to have a fight ahead of them, but nowhere near on the level that it had been before. Not everyone would follow Erik's lead after all. Enough people would follow to give them more than just a fifty-fifty chance of victory. It was a nail in the coffin of the opposition's argument, and they had just lost their biggest name.

Getting up Charles hurried over to the sofa. Moira had set David down and rushed into his arms. He held her closely, laughing and crying at the same time. Rahne clapped her hands, perhaps not fully understanding but picking up on the mood. Charles buried his face in Moira's hair, reaching out and allowing himself the most extravagant use of his powers since the day in the square. He'd have a headache later, but he didn't care.

_Thank you Erik_, he thought, _You did the right thing. _

At first he thought he wasn't going to get an answer, his powers were still recovering after all. However, an answer did come, faint though it was.

_I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it was for the best._

* * *

"Did you hear?" asked Dr. Hudson.

Raven, who'd been called in for an emergency shift at six, yawned and shook her head. She was about to ask for details when there was an explosion to her right. The next thing she knew she'd been lifted into the air and was being swung around. Raven squeaked loudly, but Azazel kept laughing.

"Put me down right now!" Raven demanded.

Azazel looked up at her, smirking. Suddenly she became aware of their positions. His hands were plastered against her back, lifting her close. His face was practically next to her stomach. For a moment she forgot her anger as heat entered her body, manifesting itself as a blush against her cheeks.

He must have known what she was thinking, or at least understood that she was embarrassed. His eyes grew big before they narrowed thoughtfully and his smirk widened. She wanted to smack it off his face, but she knew he'd be too quick for that. Instead she settled for kneeing him in the stomach as hard as she could.

His hands loosened and she dropped to the floor. Raven scrambled upwards, straightening her dress. Behind her Dr. Hudson was shaking her head. Raven expected the woman to begin lecturing him, she'd gotten irritated at his lack of propriety before, but instead she looked like she only vaguely disapproved.

Raven didn't have time to ask why this was. Azazel had gotten back to his feet, although he was wheezing slightly and had to use the wall for support.

"Devochka, you can be so cruel," he said.

"I don't like it when people pick me up for no reason and then refuse to let me down," Raven said, crossing her arms.

"But there is reason!" Azazel argued.

"And that is?" asked Raven.

Azazel's eyes widened and he inclined his head to Dr. Hudson.

"She does not know?" he asked.

"Nope," Dr. Hudson said, "I was trying to tell her when you burst in and started acting like a sugar-high toddler."

Azazel shrugged and rolled his head back in Raven's direction.

"It is time for celebration," he said, "Magnus has decided that he will not support law. They have nyet leg to stand on!"

All at once his exuberance made sense. If Erik wasn't supporting the new law then it was almost a certainty that the Szardos family wasn't going to go anywhere. Raven smiled and hugged him feeling more his exuberance than personal elation. Before she released him she punched him in the shoulder.

"What was that for?" asked Azazel.

Raven rolled her eyes.

"I understand it's a special occasion," Raven said, "But don't you dare do something like that again without warning me."

Azazel grinned.

"I will try."

* * *

Alex let out a whoop of triumph. Scott, who didn't seem to understand what was going on besides the fact that his brother was happy, clapped his hands. From the corner of the room he could just make out his mother crying and his father putting an arm around her shoulder. Alex smiled before letting out another whoop, the news commentators droning on and on about the implications of the king's change of heart.

Next to him he felt Sean jostle his shoulder in congratulations. He was glad that Sean had chosen to express his approval of the new development less vocally than Alex. He had no desire to be deaf. Hank smiled and adjusted his glasses. Alex could tell that he was eager to get home and talk to his father about it, but Alex wanted a few more minutes of pure celebration.

Sean and Hank had come over to his house early that morning to start on their next letters. Alex's father had been understanding, perhaps feeling it was better that his son was going to work out his need to be involved somehow by more peaceable means. If he'd seen his son's first draft of a letter than he wouldn't have been so comforted. It had been hard to see the king's support of the law as anything other than directly insulting to his father. Hence Hank had had to delete half of that draft to get rid of the profanity.

He'd had the same problem with the second letter that they had begun drafting. Hank had asked him why he was giving him such a hard time with it. Alex had replied that he'd known it was never going to get sent that way. He just liked to think that, even though the pages would never be put into an envelope, he was going to tell the king and all the other politicians how he felt about the situation. At least it was being put down on paper.

Not that there was any need. They wouldn't have to send their letters, or perhaps they would anyway. It wasn't over, not really. Alex knew that the law hadn't been voted down, but this was a huge blow for it. It was like the monster at the end of a video game, it just needed a few more shots to be taken down. His parents wouldn't be going anywhere, and neither would Scott. His family was going to remain together, and for some reason the king had allowed that to happen.

There was another feeling growing inside of him as well. He'd gone to a rally against the law and written a letter in opposition. It wasn't much, but it made him feel like he was contributing. In some small way his actions may have somehow helped this new circumstance come about. The king may have heard them. It was a heady thought.

Alex looked around the room, still cheering, but also thinking. Sean and Hank had also helped, they'd been there and written letters too. No matter what his parents had said about the fact that they shouldn't have been there, they had contributed. If this was the end result then they had to continue to do so. It was a heady power that he felt thrumming through him, and he could feel the red light prickle under his skin in agreement with his thoughts.

No matter. He would think about such things later when there was time for them. At the moment, all he had to do was celebrate.


	35. Chapter 35

Susanna sat on the edge of her bed, staring straight ahead. She took a deep breath and waited, trying to keep herself calm. She'd been at breakfast, still dressed in her nightgown and robe, when she'd heard about the announcement. Over the past few days it had been almost too difficult to get dressed in the morning, to face the day.

It hadn't started as much. Lorna had mentioned it as something she'd heard from Arthur, something that her father would be busy with. Susanna had frowned, but refrained from saying anything. She'd sent her daughter off to her room to get dressed, making plans to meet her in the library in a few hours.

Then, without skipping a beat, she'd found Neena. Susanna had inquired what it had been about, something she was doing more and more these days. Neena had told her, her expression somewhere between incredulity and shock. The announcement had stunned her just like it had stunned countless Genoshans.

She'd immediately returned to her room and closed the door behind her. Susanna had leaned against the closed doors. Feeling overwhelmed she'd closed her eyes and taken a deep breath, trying to calm down and marshall her thoughts. She'd need them. It was just a matter of time now.

Susanna hadn't even bothered to get dressed once she got to her room. What was the point? There wouldn't be time. She could appreciate the irony of the situation, dressed for night although it was the morning, preparing to have what was sure to be an earth-shattering conversation. It was all seeming just a little too familiar to her.

There was a knock on the door. Susanna looked down and touched the silver rose necklace she was wearing. That was one thing she'd never taken off. Drawing strength she got up and walked to the door. Her hand hesitated on the door knob for a minute, before she swallowed. She had to be brave and hope for the best.

Keeping that in mind she opened the door.

"Erik," she said.

"Susanna," he said.

There was a slight pause, both unsure of what to do next.

"May I come in?" Erik asked.

Susanna nodded and walked into their room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. Erik closed the door behind him. For a moment he stood, not saying anything. Then he sat down next to her, not quite close enough to touch. There was another painful silence and Susanna was sure that she could see him sneaking glances at her, just to reassure himself. She understood. He wasn't the only one who needed reassuring.

The silence stretched on. Susanna wished that she could say something to alleviate it. However, she knew that it wasn't up to her to make the first move. Not this time. If something was going to be said, then Erik would have to say it first. She had to give him that chance. She'd opened the door already.

"You know that I changed my policy on the Restriction law this morning," he said.

"I know," Susanna said.

Erik swallowed.

"And you know why?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I didn't watch the address, but I heard the details," Susanna said, "You said it was causing more harm than good."

Erik nodded his head, each movement ponderous. He reached out and gently took her hand. The movement was hesitant and Susanna felt a strange tingle flood her skin. She turned her head and looked at him, but he didn't meet her eyes. He kept staring at her hand, turning it over in his.

"In more ways than one," he said.

His eyes raised to hers and he sighed.

"It had potential to ruin many lives, more than I thought it would," Erik said, "I know you know what I thought, and I know that that justification seems paltry to you."

Susanna looked at his bowed head and swallowed.

"Do you still believe it?" she asked.

Erik hesitated before sighing again.

"I won't lie Susanna. Part of me does," he said.

A lump formed in her throat and she bit the inside of her mouth.

"Then why did you let it go?" she asked.

He brought his second hand over to cover hers, unable to meet her eyes.

"I talked to Lorna," he said.

The way he said it was simple, but it left Susanna feeling confused. Surely he hadn't discussed this with their daughter.

"It wasn't anything big, nothing at all to do with politics," Erik said, "But…I had been having my doubts. Was it enough to stop me? I don't know."

He shook his head.

"All I know is that I wasn't creating a world that I'd want her to live in," he said, "I was hurting Genosha and I never saw it until then, until she told me that she'd missed me. And she was right; I had been gone. Lost I suppose. I was…"

Erik looked up at her briefly before returning his attention back to her hands.

"I was hurting you as well, hurting our marriage, our family," he said, "I know that I still have the potential to hurt you, the potential to hate people because they were born without a certain gene. It's all burning inside me."

Susanna's heart ached and he gripped her hands tightly.

"I'm not telling you this to frighten you or make you sympathetic," he said, "I'm simply telling you what you would be getting yourself into if you stay with me. It's not a fair exchange and…and I would understand if you wanted to…to...to go."

Erik's voice choked and Susanna blinked. Had he thought she'd been contemplating leaving him? She had thought about a separation perhaps, but she had never seriously thought it was an option. Not when she loved him so much. She tried to find the words to correct him, but he continued talking.

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?" Erik asked, "I come in, ruin everything, and then ask you to have patience while I rebuild it."

His hand gripped hers tightly.

"For what it's worth," Erik said, "I am truly sorry for all the pain that I've caused you. It's not enough, I know, but there's nothing else I can say."

She could hear his voice crack with bitterness.

"You deserve someone who'd be able to make a decent apology," he said, "Someone who wouldn't have hurt you in the first place. Instead you got me."

Susanna withdrew her hand. For a moment he looked panicked, until she placed her hands on either side of his face.

"Love isn't about fair," Susanna said, her voice quiet, "And it's not about what anyone does or doesn't deserve."

He began to shake his head but she held him in place. She wasn't going to let things get away from her.

"Things are going to be difficult between us now," Susanna said, "I know that. There are things you said…things that are going to be hard for me to forget."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, "I didn't mean them. Not really."

His voice was pleading and Susanna's heart broke to hear it.

"I know that now like I knew that then," Susanna said, stroking his cheek, "Just like I knew that what had been done to you…what had been taken from you, was going to leave scars. I knew that even before I married you."

His eyes widened.

"I always knew that you'd try to push happiness away," Susanna said, "And I knew that that hatred you felt over what had happened was going to come up sooner or later. But...I suppose I forgot or put it out of my mind."

She tried to keep her voice gentle, but she had to make sure that he understood before they went any further.

"But it still hurt Erik," Susanna said, "And it's going to hurt for a while that you almost chose that path, and what you were almost willing to sacrifice for it."

There were a few seconds of silence. He didn't deny it but he didn't look away either. Her heart soared with the knowledge that he knew things were different now. He knew that there was an uphill struggle to fight for his marriage now, and she recognized that look of determination in his eyes.

"But you stopped," Susanna said, "You stopped, and I know what it must have meant, how difficult it must have been for you to let go."

Her hands were trembling as she thought about the myriad of emotions she was feeling that morning.

"And I know that you haven't fully let go," Susanna said, "and that you still need time to heal. But I'm patient."

She breathed out.

"If you never remember anything else, you need to remember that I still love you," Susanna said, "And that I would never, ever leave you. I'm willing to stay here and fight for what we have, fight for each other. And I know that your presence here means that you are too."

He reached his arms out and pulled her close to him, just like he had the night he'd asked her to stay out of the situation. This time his fingernails dug into her arms, a silent plea for her to stay close to him, a sign of desperation. Susanna ducked her head, moving herself close to him. She moved one hand so it rested over his heart, hearing its steady beat.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," he murmured.

She looked up and kissed him once on the lips.

"The wounds will mend Erik," Susanna said, holding his shirt lapels, "everything mends with time and care."

Erik gave her a weak smile. Susanna got up and placed a hand on his cheek. She knew that she should wait, but there was not time better to start rebuilding than the present.

"Now," she said, "Lorna's going to be waiting for me in the library."

He blinked at her and she smiled.

"I'm going to go get dressed and go down there," she said, "I was thinking about taking her along the beach that runs beneath the palace. She loves exploring it."

Her husband's face still looked slightly quizzical, obviously wary as to what she was driving at. She almost laughed, despite their previous words. She couldn't though. The situation was still fragile and she would have to tread carefully. They both would. Her next question was a dangerous one, not something to be taken lightly.

"Do you want to come with us?" she asked.

For a moment she saw indecision blossom on his face. He'd just dropped a bombshell on Genosha's political scene. There would be angry questions to deflect and demands from the press. The law still had to be overturned, and although he had effectively crippled the law's support, it still had to be done. There was a great deal of work ahead, and a day off seemed like the last thing he'd be able to do. She still half-expected a refusal, despite everything they had said.

Instead his expression softened and he smiled.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said.

Susanna leaned down and gave him a lingering kiss. He pulled away, his hand encircled around her wrist.

"You'll be the death of me you know," he said.

Grinning Susanna disentangled her wrist and headed towards the bathroom.

"I sincerely hope not," she said.

* * *

"This was an unforeseen setback."

William Stryker, formerly of the United States Defense Department, looked across the table. Dr. Killbrew was tapping his fingers on the table top, not even trying to hide his irritation. If Killbrew was even an iota less useful Stryker wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to kill him on the spot.

"I'll admit that this was unexpected Emrys," Stryker said, "But I fail to see exactly how it's a setback."

Killbrew let out a barking laugh.

"You're kidding right?" he said, "The plan was, and I want to make sure that I get this straight, that they were going to start forcing humans off the island. Then we were supposed to send in Weapon X to assassinate humans that got to remain. Countries would be outraged, and we'd step in to help. Now, what part of this is possible now that the Sapien Restriction Law looks like it's going to be thrown out?"

Stryker shrugged, trying not to show his annoyance. Exile had made him irritable. If McCone had fired that MacTaggert slut earlier like he'd told him to then he'd still be able to operate inside of the States. Instead they'd been forced to move around like rabbits, running from an adversary that should have been crushed underneath thier boots.

"We can still move on with our plans without the Restriction law," Stryker said, "How's the adamantium process going?"

"For the last time it's a dead end!" Killbrew snapped, "Every single specimen has died! They just don't have strong enough healing factors!"

From the other end of the table Reverend Craig snorted. Like Stryker exile had been wearing his patience thin. Killbrew had always operated in the shadows. He didn't understand.

"We'll find one," Craig said, "There's a freak for everything."

"Indeed," Stryker said.

Killbrew let out a frustrated breath of air and ran his hand through his hair. He really didn't understand. Stryker wondered why they bothered to let him out of his laboratories at all. Killbrew was only really useful when he was inside of one, and even Stryker would admit that he was extremely useful during that time. Outside of one he was an annoyance.

"Emrys, just be patient for a little while longer," he said, "Trask may be gone but we still have his plans. The time to strike will come soon."

Craig nodded and Killbrew cocked his head.

"How soon?" asked Killbrew.

Stryker grinned.

"Soon," he said.


	36. Chapter 36

July 15, 1960

Raven walked through the halls, shifting her stack of paperwork. Her eyes glanced around the hallway. It was nearly a month since the Restriction law had been buried under a stack of protest and anger. It was a bygone conclusion and Erik had, in the end, become more popular by opposing it than hanging on.

She knew that there were political repercussions. Her brother was the Prime Minister. There was an increasingly radical faction forming and Erik was seen as something of a traitor by them. Charles had said that they were misguided. Azazel had called them mu'daks. She didn't know what it meant, but his unpleasant expression had told her everything she'd needed to know. It also made her feel inclined to agree with him.

Yet, there was a sort of balance to the world now. Things looked clearer. She didn't know how she felt about humans in general, but her brother and Azazel's elation over the destruction of the law had her feeling optimistic. She supposed it was just the way everyone felt after a major political triumph.

Charles and Erik were also rebuilding the trust that they'd shared before it. She knew that to Charles the withdrawl of Erik's support was a sign that he would, in time, always do the right thing. At the same time she knew that they could never allow something similar to happen again.

The papers in her arms started to shift again and she stopped to adjust them. She was on more clerical duties now and she found that she was a sight better at them then helping out the patients one on one. She still made time in her day for Doug. He was one of Rahne's best friends and she felt bad when she didn't have news for her on the days Rahne didn't visit.

She walked into the room, opening the door with her foot. Rahne looked up from a board game, her eyes questioning. Raven shook her head. Her niece had a habit of forgetting what time it was when she was playing with Doug. Often times she didn't know that it was time to leave until Raven came in to get her.

However, it wasn't time to go yet. Rahne grinned and went back to her board game. They were playing checkers and, unlike _Monopoly, _Rahne tended to win that game. Raven supposed it came from living in the same house as Charles the chess whiz. He'd been teaching her checkers as a precursor ever since she came to Genosha. It had been another way for them to bond, which assured that Rahne would play it often. It was why Doug didn't like to play it so often.

The door opened again and Dr. Hudson walked in. Doug waved to her and Dr. Hudson smiled. It was a comfortable pattern that they had gotten into. He'd come a long way towards trusting Dr. Hudson after his first few tentative steps. Dr. Hudson leaned over and checked his chart. As she did she glanced over at Raven from time to time.

Raven met her eyes before looking away. Today was the day they'd decided to talk to Doug about his plans after the hospital. Against all the odds he'd not only stabilized but recovered. His progress had been phenomenal. In a month or two the doctors agreed that he'd be able to leave the hospital.

Dr. Hudson sat on the edge of the bed. Rahne took this as a cue to put down her checkers. She cocked her head. Her face looked so serious that Raven had to remind herself that Rahne wasn't biologically related to Charles. She wondered how many other habits the girl had picked up since she'd been adopted.

"Doug," Dr. Hudson said, "You've been making great progress lately. Some of the doctors are talking about taking you outside in a few days."

Doug grinned. Rahne held up her hand and he high-fived it.

"I'll bring a kite," Rahne said, "They're real fun in the summer. I've got a red one and a blue one. Which one do you want?"

"Red," Doug said.

"Gotcha," Rahne said.

Dr. Hudson smiled and nodded.

"But…overall," she said, "they're thinking you'd be well enough to leave the hospital in a month or so."

Doug froze. Rahne turned her head and looked at Dr. Hudson, her eyes wide. For a moment no one said anything. Then Doug let out a long breath.

"I could go?" he asked.

"Yes," Dr. Hudson, "Provided as long as you keep on recovering, but there doesn't seem to be any indications that your health won't continue to improve."

Rahne smiled but Doug didn't say anything. The lights on the scarred side of his face were blinking on and off and he bit his lip. In the past months they'd come to realize that that meant that he was thinking. Raven wondered just what he was thinking about that made him look so grave.

"Where would I go?" he asked.

His voice was plaintive and Raven fought the urge to sigh in sadness and relief. There was sadness because, after everything Doug had been through, he didn't have any family to go home to. His equation of normal had been taken from him a long with how he originally viewed himself and his health.

There was relief because they had come prepared for such a situation. They'd been figuring it out ever since they'd been told that he was slotted to be released in the upcoming weeks. Dr. Hudson nodded to Raven. She stepped forwards, pulling a brochure for the school out of her paperwork.

"There's a lovely school on the edge of the city," she said, "It's got a few vacancies. From what we've seen your gifts would put you very high in the classes. It's got spacious grounds and dormitories on campus if you want."

Doug looked uncertain. Rahne peeked over the top of the brochure and snatched it out of Raven's hands. The motion gave her a small paper cut on her thumb. Raven withdrew her thumb and put it inside of her mouth to stifle the pain. For all of Rahne's poise she could act incredibly childish at times. However, she couldn't rebuke Rahne in front of Doug at such a crucial moment. It would have to wait until later.

Rahne turned the brochure over as her eyes devoured it. She grinned.

"I go to this school," Rahne said,

Next to her Doug cocked his head.

"It really is great," Rahne said, "It's the place with those huge bannisters I was telling you about, even though we're not supposed to slide down them anymore. We weren't ever actually, but it was fun. And then there's this one room that the older kids do simulations in for combat, and there's this huge pool!"

She unfolded the brochure and nodded to herself.

"The food's good too, except the meatloaf," Rahne said, "That's awful. Tastes like a sponge soaked in gravy. Sometimes I think it **is **a sponge soaked in gravy."

Doug's eyes lit up in interest and he looked over at the brochure. Raven let out a breath and glanced at Dr. Hudson. Dr. Hudson nodded. Having Rahne in the room when they told Doug about his future had been a great idea. She'd managed to convince him to go to the school more in five minutes than they would have been able to in an hour.

Sometimes she wondered just how much Rahne had changed things for Doug. She'd certainly made a difference; there was no doubt about that. Perhaps it was the idea of having a friend who would be sad if something happened to him that kept him going. Or maybe Rahne had represented a future that he'd thought he wouldn't have.

It could have been both of those things, or it could have been neither. Raven didn't know and she certainly wasn't about to ask. Raven had more tact than that. All she knew was that her niece had helped save the life of a boy that everyone else had just been expecting to die. That was absolutely certain.

Doug flipped to the back of the brochure and looked up. He seemed curious, more willing to listen than he'd been before.

"Would I stay at the school all the time?" he asked.

Raven nodded.

"If you went you'd be a ward of the school until you turned eighteen," she said, "You can leave for field trips, and of course you can always come and visit Rahne."

"I wanna be in the same class," Rahne said, "I wanna show him around."

Raven had to smile at Rahne's obstinacy. It was both charming and commanding. That had been inherited, no doubt about it.

"We'll see what we can do," Raven said, "But other than that you'd be at the school most of the time."

Doug bit his lip and looked down at the brochure again.

"Or…" Dr. Hudson began.

Raven looked up at her, frowning. Dr. Hudson didn't say anything; just kept her eyes fixed on Doug. They'd gone over how they were going to present Doug to the idea of life outside of the hospital several times. They'd always stopped at the school though. Raven didn't know what Dr. Hudson was going to say.

"If you want," Dr. Hudson said, her voice soft, "I could become your guardian."

The room became silent. Raven looked over at Dr. Hudson, but Dr. Hudson continued to look at Doug. She hadn't said a word to Raven. She hadn't needed to, of course she hadn't. They were friendly associates, but Raven wouldn't really call them friends. Dr. Hudson had thirty years to Raven's seventeen. She didn't even know her first name.

Doug bit his lower lip.

"I like you," he said, "I like you a lot but…"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You're not my mom."

Dr. Hudson smiled gently and touched his cheek. The side across from her was the withered side, the side that her hand brushed up against. Doug took a deep breath in as she did so. She didn't withdraw her hand though, perhaps trying to prove some sort of point. Doug looked up. From the way his lip was trembling Raven thought he was going to cry.

"I know," Dr. Hudson said, "And I won't try to be your mother."

Raven swallowed, wondering if she should take Rahne out of the room. It was a private conversation that the two were having, one that she wasn't supposed to be privy to. Rahne had politely moved back into her chair, taking the brochure with her. However, she wondered if she should really be hearing what Dr. Hudson was saying either.

"I'd take care of you, but I'm not going to try and replace your parents," Dr. Hudson said, "They were your parents and they loved you. And I know that you love them."

Doug nodded.

"They'll always have a special place in your heart," Dr. Hudson said, "And I wouldn't want to take that away from you for the world."

Dr. Hudson swallowed.

"You could just…think about me as an aunt or something."

She smiled, an expression which didn't quite reach her eyes. Doug's lip trembled for another moment and he closed his eyes. Dr. Hudson's smile faltered and Raven began to wonder just how much she wanted Doug to say yes to her proposal. She'd been his attending doctor ever since he'd been brought in. They were very close, but Raven had never seen it as anything more than the relationship between a deathly ill patient and an attentive doctor.

"Don't worry about it," she said, "This is a very important decision and I don't want to rush you into it. I'll give you a week or two to think it over, and you can tell me when you're ready. Does that sound good?"

Doug hesitated and then nodded. He opened his eyes and Dr. Hudson resumed smiling. She squeezed his hand and then got up.

"Well, I'll leave you to your game," Dr. Hudson said, "You'd best keep an eye on Rahne over there. She's winning."

"She always does," Doug said, chewing his lip.

"It's only because I plan ahead," Rahne said.

Dr. Hudson laughed and waved.

"I'll see you tomorrow Doug," she said.

Raven watched as Dr. Hudson left the room. She took a deep breath and walked over to the two children.

"I'll see you tomorrow too," Raven said, "And remember Rahne, we have to leave in another two hours."

"I know, I know," Rahne said.

"You'll remember?"

"I'll remember," Rahne said, moving her checker.

Raven knew she wouldn't. Waving goodbye Raven walked out of the room, hurrying to catch up with Dr. Hudson. To her surprise the woman was waiting for her, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Feeling embarrassed Raven slowed down, but it was already obvious that she'd been trying to catch her.

"Sorry I didn't warn you," Dr. Hudson said, "It was a hard decision to make, and an even harder one to talk about."

Raven nodded like she understood, although she didn't.

"I know it sounds like it's coming out of nowhere," Dr. Hudson said, "But I've been thinking about this for quite some time. I want him to have stability in his life, someone who's helping take care of him, some sort of family. I'm sure he'd be cared for at the school but…well…"

She shrugged.

"Better safe than sorry," she said, "Especially when you're dealing with a child."

Again Raven nodded. Dr. Hudson turned as if to go away. Raven swallowed.

"I'm really impressed," Raven blurted out, "With what you're doing."

Dr. Hudson stopped, her eyes wide. The expression softened.

"Thank you," she said.

Raven smiled and swallowed again.

"What's your name?" she asked.

Again Dr. Hudson looked surprised, but not offended.

"Heather," she said.

* * *

_**A/N: **The internet's supposed to be down where I live for the next few days. I'll try to see if I can get internet access, but the updates may be a little irregular for the next couple of days. _


	37. Chapter 37

_**A/N: **It's heartening in this day and age how common wifi's become._

* * *

July 30, 1960

Lorna's eyes narrowed in concentration, her mouth set in a firm line. The metal crate wobbled into the air, the surface rippling under the pressure. She was sitting down, one hand extended in front of her, the other gripping the edge of the chair. The knuckles on the hand gripping the chair had begun to turn white.

Erik stood behind her, nodding from time to time. He'd tried to ensure that her lessons were instructive and practical, but it could be difficult. Erik had never had someone gently introduce him to his powers. He'd learned them through violence and terror, tactics he was loathe to approach. Lorna's powers required a gentle touch.

Her powers were just ending their period of infancy. Without any traumatic event where Lorna had been required to defend herself, Lorna had continued to learn about her powers at a snail's crawl. However, with each passing lesson she was able to move bigger opjectss and manipulate them with greater accuracy.

In the beginning they'd started with cups and metal chunks. When she gained more finesse he planned to use items with less metal in them. For the moment he was concentrating on size. The crate, made as it was for military field use, was by far the largest thing she had ever tried to manipulate.

"Now," he said, "carefully separate the metal into two equal portions. It's just like pulling play-doh apart. Understand?"

Lorna hesitated and then nodded. The crate wobbled at the gesture and her eyes went back to it. She bit her lip and the metal in the crate slowly started to separate into two parts. It was far from even though. Narrowing her eyes even further some metal moved from one group to another, the effort causing a visible strain.

Finally she sat back and the two parts of metal clattered across the table. She shook her head, looking frustrated.

"Now now Lorna," Erik said, "You can't just give up."

Lorna looked down. He sat down next to her, his hand on her shoulder.

"I know this is difficult," he said, "But everyone starts out only being able to do small things. It's only when they work at it that they get good."

Sighing Lorna looked back at the crate.

"Now," Erik said, "You were doing a great job until it fell. Do you think you can get it back into the air and put it together again?"

Lorna bit her lip and nodded, her face determined. Erik smiled.

"Alright," he said, "I want you to take your time. You've got all the time in the world to do this. No need to rush."

His daughter nodded and looked at the piles of metal. The two pieces lifted into the air. He was proud to see that they hadn't started wobbling yet. Slowly the pieces joined together into one solid mass. The crate began to wobble but it was being shaped into what it had been once. Erik noticed the attention to detail she used for the buckles.

The crate was trembling violently by the time it was done, but even from a distance he could see that it was done correctly. Lorna let it go and it fell to the floor, the lid rattling. Erik turned to Lorna, who had begun panting, her face red. She looked from the crate to him, anxiously searching for his approval.

"Excellent," he said, "You're definitely getting better."

Lorna's face lit up and she threw her arms around his neck. Erik smiled and patted her on the back, watching her beaming face as she pulled away.

"Very good," he said.

From the back of the room the door opened. Susanna walked in and Lorna turned her head. Erik looked at his wife and felt a smile on his own lips. Slowly but surely they had begun to rebuild what he had ruined. Her acceptance had made the process move fast, but there was still more to do.

He'd begun courting her, currying her favor and trying to show her her importace without the grandiose gestures that had characterized thier relationship since she had arrived on Genosha. It turned out to be something that was more difficult than he'd expected. Somehow as a teenager he'd managed to gain her love when he wasn't even trying, so it made no sense to him that a concentrated effort would be so hard.

Nonetheless, as soon as they had started rebuilding the effect on Susanna had been immediate. The dark circles under her eyes had disappeared and the sallowness had waned from her skin. She'd begun dressing with her usual care, and he was glad to see that she was wearing some of his gifts since coming to Genosha. For the first time in a long time she'd been happy.

It was a two way street though, and Erik hadn't been slow to notice the effects on himself. He was still uncertain about his feelings on the dismissal of the Restriction law. It had been better for Genosha, he did believe that, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help thinking that he had made a mistake.

It was something that he was learning to get over. Erik had sacrificed something for Genosha concerning the repeal of the Restriction law. He'd sacrificed nights spent sleeping in an office, a crumbling marriage, a daughter who was becoming a stranger, white hairs, the loss of a friend, and the division of his government. It seemed like an uneven deal with the benefits stacked high in his favor. Erik wasn't complaining.

Susanna smiled at him before looking at Lorna. Lorna hopped off the chair and clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels.

"You missed it!" she said.

Susanna smiled at Erik before directing her attention to Lorna.

"What did I miss?" she asked.

"I can lift that," Lorna said, pointing to the crate.

"You're getting strong," Susanna said.

Lorna tossed her head proudly.

"I'll be opening doors any day now," Lorna said.

"Without a doubt," Susanna said.

She looked up at Erik and met his eyes.

"You're a fast learner," she said, "Like your father."

Erik put a hand under Susanna's chin and stroked her cheek. He tilted his head and looked at Lorna.

"Don't worry," he said, glancing up at Susanna, "You're more like your mother than me. Be grateful for that."

Susanna rolled her eyes and batted away his hand.

"We can argue about this for a while," Susanna said, "But I've got better ideas, ones that involve the first batch of strawberries from the garden and pie. I think I can convince the chef to let us use the kitchen."

"I hope so," Erik said, "We do pay him."

Susanna laughed, but Lorna's mind was focused solely on the mention of the word 'pie'.

"Really?" asked Lorna.

Susanna lifted up her hands. Each finger was stained with strawberry juice.

"What do you think I was doing while you were having lessons?" she asked, "We've got a whole box ready in the kitchen if you want to help."

"Of course!" Lorna said.

She looked at Erik, her eyes bright.

"Wanna come?" Lorna asked

Erik looked down at Lorna fondly. Those seemed to be the two words that defined his life over the past two months.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said.

* * *

"I need new notebooks," Rahne said.

Charles nodded and circled the notebooks on her list of school supplies. All around them were the boxes that Rahne's school things from the last year had been put into when summer arrived. Most of the things they could use from the previous year, but there were some things that needed to be bought new.

He'd been a participant in the last rush to collect school things. Charles had been trying to get more involved in Rahne's day-to-day life as her new father. However, he'd never been completely in the thick of it. Still, he knew that he needed to continue to make an effort to be involved, or there'd be no point in him being her father at all.

"And your bookbag is still in good condition?" he said.

"Yup," Rahne said.

She got up and pulled a messenger bag out of one of the boxes.

"This year's gonna be special," she said.

"Oh?" asked Charles, "Why's that?"

"Because Doug's gonna be there of course," Rahne said, "I can't wait to introduce him to Carly. He can't meet Lorna, which is sad, but still."

Charles nodded, remembering filling out the paperwork for Doug to be admitted himself.

"I think he's gonna take Dr. Hudson up on her offer," Rahne said, "He likes her."

"Perhaps," Charles said, moving down the list and making a mental note of Rahne's words, "Do you have your lunch pail?"

Rahne put the messenger bag back. Some further digging revealed a tin lunch pail.

"Can I make my own sandwiches this year?" she asked.

"Are you sure?" asked Charles, "You'd have to make it the night before, and if you forget you'd still have to get to school on time."

"I'm sure," Rahne said.

"Well, I'll talk it over with your mother," Charles said, "But you are responsible, so I don't think there should be a problem. As long as you don't start making chocolate-banana-sugar sandwiches or any such nonesense."

A brief look of embarrassment flashed across Rahne's face.

"You were thinking about doing it, weren't you?" sighed Charles.

Rahne threw her lunch pail back in the box.

"Just a little," she said.

Charles shook his head and ruffled her hair.

"You're incorrigible," he said.

"Dad!" Rahne said.

She swatted away his hand and began smoothing her down, although he knew she wasn't half as annoyed as she pretended to be.

"What am I to do with you?" he asked.

"What am I to do with **you**?" Rahne countered.

"And here I am, stuck with both of you."

Charles looked up and saw Moira coming down the stairs. David was in her arms, sucking on one of his hands. She gently took his hand out of his mouth, only to have him try to stick it back in almost immediately. Moira sighed before taking his hand out of his mouth again and holding it in place.

"But I'm awesome," Rahne said.

Moira smiled and sat down with them. David let out a small cooing noise upon seeing his sister. Rahne reached out and petted his head. It was touching to see the bond that the two of them were forming. When David had first been born Charles had been worried that Rahne was going to treat him like a living doll. Instead she had actually taken an active part in helping care for him. It was a good omen for the future.

"That's true," Moira said, "But I've yet to hear your father's excuse."

Charles shrugged.

"I'd like to think I'm disarmingly charming," he said.

Rahne laughed and Moira rolled her eyes. The sudden increase in noise caused David to giggle as well, flailing his hands about. Charles noticed that he also attempted to use the distraction to put his hand back inside his mouth. Unfortunately for him Moira noticed and thwarted his attempt.

Moira caught Charles' glance and sighed.

"No matter what I do he keeps doing that," she said, "I don't know what to make of it. All the books said to cover his hands in soap or something else nasty if he keeps doing it, but he's inherited our stubborness. I don't want to make him sick."

"A good choice I'm sure," Charles said.

"I know," Moira said, "It's just that every time I go to hold him he's covered in drool."

"I don't mind," Rahne said, "Can I hold him? Please? Please?"

Moira smiled and passed David over to Rahne, her movements gentle.

"Be careful with him," Moira said.

"I know," Rahne said, "He's so tiny. Look at his little fingers."

She grabbed his hand and began comparing finger sizes. David blinked at her, probably because he'd been trying to place the hand back into his mouth.

"He'll get bigger," Moira said.

Rahne nodded and cocked her head at David. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. Wolf ears sprouted from the top of her head and David shouted in surprise. She retracted them, causing another exclamation from her brother. Rahne repeated the process a few times in a familiar version of her own game of peek-a-boo.

Charles looked over at Moira and made a gesture for her to come closer. She obliged, scooching next to him before leaning against his chest. He rested his head on her shoulder and looked at the boxes scattered around them. In the background they could hear Rahne continue to coo at her brother.

"How domestic," she said.

Charles smiled.

"It's perfect," he said.

Moira smiled and squeezed his hand. The past few months had been rough for them all. However, it seemed like they had come through it. Rahne was getting ready to start school with one friend who once faced the threat of deportation because of her genes and another who had nearly died due to complications brought on by experimentation. Their son was healthy, their friends were putting their lives back together, and the future looked bright.


	38. Chapter 38

August 8, 1960

"You'll be fine," Heather said, "It's a good school. One of my co-worker's little sisters goes here."

Doug nodded and glanced up at her. It had been hard to start thinking of Dr. Hudson as Heather. However, he couldn't keep calling her Dr. Hudson now that she was his legal guardian. They'd finished up the paperwork in a rush and he'd been taken out of the hospital a week ago. Now school was starting.

Taking a deep breath Doug looked around him. The Institute was big, perhaps as big as the hospital. However, unlike the hospital it had been built for beauty, not for functionality. Hedge rows grew up around the school, flowers blossoming from them. The bricks were bright and the windows were polished.

The school's accessories were eye-catching as well, whispering promises of picture book-like perfection. There was a bike rack where multi-colored bicycles were stacked. Someone had drawn a hopscotch grid in chalk. He could make out swings in the back. It all spoke of a vibrant community teeming with other children.

He bit his lip. Doug began wondering if he'd made a mistake when he said he'd go there. Rahne had told him great things about the school, that much was true. For weeks he'd been plotting how he was going to spend his recesses, and what days to bring a sandwich on and what days to ask Heather for lunch money.

Doug had been looking forward to it until he realized how many other people there would be, people who would expect him to talk and interact with them. Slowly the plans he'd made had shriveled up as the children in his imagination had become all too real. He'd never had many friends even before his mutation had manifested. He'd never been social, always feeling some level of separation, and now he was woefully out of practice.

It all seemed like too much. He'd taken a leap of faith when he'd agreed to live with Heather. He'd had fun over the past few days; getting out of the hospital, buying clothes that didn't smell like disinfectant, and essentially filling the room Heather had prepared for him with odds and ends to make it feel like home.

He hadn't fully adjusted to being outside of the hospital. Everything seemed so noisy. In the hospital the walls were thick, but in Heather's apartment they were thinner. They lived on the outskirts of the city, but there was still noise from the street or people climbing the stairs of the apartment complex. Every time someone had come to talk to her about something he'd made sure to stay out of the way, never speaking more than a few words to them.

Going out had been fun. There had been grass and other, more familiar things like buildings and streets. Even then the crowds and noise had confused him though. Heather had made sure that he was shielded from the worst of the them, but his nervousness remained. He couldn't even spend ten minutes in a crowded store without feeling pressed in. Heather had assured him it would go away with time, but he wasn't so sure.

Either way he was going into a building where people would be pressing in from every side constantly. At the moment there was no one else in the schoolyard, but he knew that was only because they'd come late because he was new. Inside there would be scores of people around him all the time.

He swallowed and adjusted his backpack. Heather noticed and put a hand on his shoulder. She knelt down so that she was eye level with him.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

Doug swallowed again and nodded.

"We don't have to do this," Heather said.

His eyes widened.

"We don't?" asked Doug.

"No," Heather said, "We can try this tomorrow or the day after if you want. I know it's a lot to take in and I don't want to rush you."

The suggestion made him pause. Doug turned the idea over in his head. He'd love to leave, to turn around and run back to the cozy little room he'd started to call his own. He'd burry his head under his pillow and block out even the thought of noise. Doug would forget all about the too-perfect building.

At the same time, he knew if he did that then he'd never have the courage to come back. Every day he'd stop in the schoolyard and Heather, being nice, would allow him to go home. Then he'd just burry his head again and again until she finally understood that it was hopeless and stop bringing him. He'd just stay inside, too afraid to go out. Doug was many things, but he wasn't a coward.

So he squared his shoulders and shook his head.

"It's okay," he said.

Heather smiled and got to her feet. She kept her hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him up the steps and into the administrative office. Someone came out of the main office to meet her and the two exchanged words. Doug could only glance up from time to time, not sure if he should be looking at her or not. His father had always said it was rude to stare, and he was too nervous to make eye contact.

The woman was staring though. He could feel it. Even when he looked up and caught her she didn't look away. Doug wondered if his reputation as the only child who'd survived the MRD's more intensive experiments had followed him to the school. He stiffened up, waiting for her to say something.

"Miss," Heather said, her voice snappish, "I'd like you to tell me where Doug's classroom is. Or is your brain as frozen as your eyes?"

The woman at the counter glared at Heather, but Heather didn't move. Doug blinked, realizing that Heather was out-glaring her. Eventually the woman looked away.

"Up the stairs and take a right. You'll want to go into the left hallway," the woman said, "And then it's the third door on the right."

"Thank you," Heather said.

She gestured to Doug and they walked down the hall. Doug looked up at her as they did, feeling a swell of relief at what she'd said to the woman in the office. No matter what happened he hated people staring at him like he might die at any second. He thought he'd already proven that that wasn't going to happen.

Heather stopped him before they went up the stairs. Doug swallowed and looked up at her. Her expression was soft and she sighed.

"I know it's going to be hard for you," she said, "Most of the adults know who you are and what you went through."

Doug took a deep breath.

"But the kids won't, so you shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing from them" Heather said, "But if anybody here makes you uncomfortable like that woman in the office, then you come to me and I'll kick their asses."

Despite himself Doug grinned. Heather tilted her head back.

"And I mean it too," she said, "So come on."

He felt a little braver as they walked up the stairs. He ran his hand along the railing, trying to imagine Rahne and her friend Wanda sliding down it. He'd never seen Wanda, so her face came out blurry. He could imagine Rahne very clearly though, pumping her fists in exultation. The thought that this place had been her playground before it had been her school comforted him.

The hallway they walked into was covered in construction paper and water colors. It smelt like glue and glitter, with just a hint of flowers. A phone rang further down, whispering to him and inviting him to have a conversation. He had to stop himself from finding it. If he did he knew he'd have a conversation where no one stared at him, but he remembered the silent agreement he'd made with himself when he walked through the doors.

They stopped at a door marked 'Ms. Coy Mahn's 5th Grade Class.' Heather stopped and looked down at Doug, gesturing to the door.

"This is your classroom," she said, "Now, she's going to be introducing you to the other kids, which is probably going to be a little scary."

Doug nodded. It sounded horrifying.

"But then you'll get to sit down and start learning," she said, "I know how much you like to do that. They'll have new books and everything. I heard Ms. Coy Mahn's really good with French, so you'll probably have some fun with that."

A knot of anxiety was forming in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't say anything.

"I'll come pick you up at three," Heather said, "I've cut down on my hospital hours, so it should be alright. Then you can tell me all about your day. Okay?"

Another nod would probably have her worrying about him. He struggled to find both his voice and a response.

"Okay," Doug said.

Heather smiled at him and knocked on the door. A woman with dark hair opened, smiling at Heather and holding out her hand.

"You must be Dr. Hudson," she said.

Heather shook her hand.

"Ms. Coy Mahn?" she asked.

"Oh please, call me Xi'an," Ms. Coy Mahn said.

She released Heather's hand and looked down at Doug.

"And I suppose that means that you're Doug?" she asked.

Doug nodded, his voice once again gone.

"Alright," Ms. Coy Mahn said.

She gestured towards the classroom.

"Come on," she said, "We've almost started. I'll introduce you to the class and show you your desk."

Doug looked over at Heather, who ruffled his hair.

"Have fun okay?" she said.

He somehow managed to nod. Doug followed Ms. Coy Mahn through the door. Just as he stepped over the threshold he looked back. Heather was still standing in the hallway, looking at him hopefully. He could see how excited she was for him, how much she wanted him to enjoy himself. She waved.

He waved back before the door was shut and he found himself at the front of a classroom filled with children. All of them had been talking while Ms. Coy Mahn was out, but they stopped when they came in. He felt their curious glances raking over him and he fought the overwhelming urge to run.

"Class, attention please," Ms. Coy Mahn said.

Doug bit the inside of his mouth.

"I'd like you to meet Doug Ramsay," she said, "He's new to the school."

Thirty pairs of eyes continued to stare at him. He shuffled his feet and gripped the straps of his backpack as tightly as possible.

"He's going to be in the higher reading group," Ms. Coy Mahn said, "So I'd like him to sit in the third row. Like I said, it's his first day here, so I hope you're all extra nice to him. This place can be a little overwhelming."

It seemed like the biggest understatement he'd ever heard. Ms. Coy Mahn looked down at him in expectation. He didn't know what to do, but it was obvious that he was supposed to do something. Feeling helpless he looked back at the classroom. They were all still staring at him. Doug felt his throat go dry and his hands began to shake.

This had been a mistake. He could still get out. If he pushed the door open now and ran down the halls then he might be able to catch up with Heather. She'd take him back, and he wouldn't just burry his head under a pillow. He'd hide under the bed and refuse to come out, would block out even the smallest thought of school.

Doug glanced at the door, his body tensed for flight. Everyone was still looking at him, waiting for him to do something, but it didn't matter anymore. Soon he'd be out of the room, out of the Institute, and back in the apartment. He shifted his backpack on his shoulders and took a deep breath.

The door opened, slamming against the opposite wall. Rahne stood there, clutching her messenger bag with one hand and panting, her hair sticking up.

"I'm sorry Ms. Coy Mahn," she said, "I was on time, I really was, but I lost one of my books and-"

She spotted Doug and her eyes widened. For some reason he didn't mind this type of staring. Not when it was from someone he knew.

"Doug!" Rahne shrieked.

She ran up and then stopped herself, settling for waving to him enthusiastically. The rest of the class was laughing, but Rahne ignored them. Ms. Coy Mahn sighed.

"I'll excuse you for being late this just this once," she said, "Now take a seat, and please try not to make your entrances so dramatic."

Rahne nodded, but she didn't move.

"Where's Doug sitting?" she asked.

"The third row," said Ms. Coy Mahn.

"Great!" Rahne said, "I sit there too!"

Without a second of hesitation she grabbed Doug's hand. He allowed her to pull him to the third row, seating herself at the desk on his right. Next to her a girl with dark brown hair and tinted glasses waved and Rahne waved back. Ms. Coy Mahn turned back to the board and Rahne leaned over to his desk.

"That's Carly," she said, "I'll introduce you at lunch."

She grinned.

"I'm really glad you're here."

Doug smiled back, feeling for the first time since he came to the Institute that staying might not be such a bad idea after all.


	39. Chapter 39

September 16, 1960

"Well well, look who it is."

Azazel looked up and saw Raven looking at him, one hand holding a pile of papers and the other on her hip. He grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"I thought you'd left us after Doug got discharged," Raven said.

"Oh, well," he said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

Not satisfied Raven sat down. Her yellow eyes bored into his face and he squirmed uncomfortably. If she could do this to him then they should have assigned her to the interrogation chambers during the revolution. She might have been able to get the information out of prisoners even faster than Emma.

"There are other reasons to come to hospital," he said at last.

"Yeah, if you're sick," she said, "And it's pretty obvious you're not."

"I have never been sick day in life," Azazel said.

Raven snorted. She tapped her chin with her finger and kept her eyes fixed on him. He could tell that she was trying to figure out what he was thinking, but she would just have to join the club of those who had tried and failed. He just continued to stare blankly back and Raven stopped tapping her chin.

"So if you're not sick then I suppose this brings us back to the original question," she said, "Why are you here?"

Azazel shrugged.

"Are you visiting?" she asked.

He decided it was as good an excuse as any other.

"Heather is friend," he shrugged.

Something flickered in Raven's eyes and she crossed her arms over her paperwork. When she spoke again her voice was sharp.

"So you're here visiting Heather."

He flinched at the tone, although he didn't know why. For some reason or another just made him uncomfortable.

"Well she's off shift," Raven said, using that same tone, "She's got different hours after she adopted Doug."

His tail twitched and he shifted in his seat. He couldn't figure out why the discomfort was mounting, but he decided that he might as well come clean. He couldn't have her comparing notes with Heather when she returned.

"Nyet, I am not here for Heather," he said.

The anger seemed to leave her, but irritation mixed with curiosity soon took its place. It always did with Raven.

"Then why are you here?" asked Raven.

"It is secret," he said stubbornly.

Raven rolled her eyes and set her paperwork to one side.

"Sometimes I have to try hard to remember you're not related to Emma," said Raven, "You're both so damn confusing."

"Oh, we are very straightforward," Azazel said, "When wish to be."

"Which is never," Raven sighed, sounding exasperated.

There was silence between them for a few seconds. She was obviously waiting for him to tell her, but he wasn't about to give anything away. He could outwait the best. If she wanted to find out what he was doing at the hospital, then she was just going to have to be patient. It wasn't his story to tell after all.

"Fine, don't tell me," Raven said.

"Good," Azazel said, "I will not."

Raven shook her head. She paused then, as though tasting her words.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she said, "We don't really run into each other outside of the hospital."

She shrugged, trying to make her voice sound light.

"I guess I missed you."

His brain lit up with warning signals. Azazel wanted to teleport out of the hallway, but he couldn't, not with someone waiting for him. There was also a treacherous part of him that wanted to stay, to follow Raven's words to their obvious conclusion. He stomped it down as hard as he could, locking it away and throwing away the key. It would come back again though. It always did.

It was the real reason why he hadn't continued to visit at the hospital. Sure, Doug was fine now, but he was friends with both Heather and Raven. Coming by once or twice a week wouldn't have been unusual. He probably could have gotten by with three or four times if he'd had an excuse like bringing them lunch.

That was the problem though. If Azazel wanted he could probably visit all the time, and that couldn't lead anywhere good. He hadn't forgotten the madness that had possessed his mind when he told her his own life story. He hadn't forgotten the even deeper madness that had come upon him in the moment they'd shared afterwards.

Azazel didn't know how he wasn't ashamed. Raven was nearly six years younger than him. She had only just turned eighteen. He shouldn't be admiring the way her gold eyes looked in her charcoal-blue skin, or how her ruby hair framed her face. She was too young, and he was too old. Raven was even younger than Emma and Clarice, the girls who looked at him as a father figure.

Of course, Emma and Clarice were quite close to his age. He was aware of this, and how strange it had seemed to other people at the time. Being in MRD custody had forced people to forge strange relationships though, and people clung to them even after the revolution had been fought. In another time and place, the three of them might have been nothing more than friends. Now they were a cobbled together family.

However, he hadn't known Raven during the revolution. Oh, he'd heard of her. Everyone in the inner circle had heard of her to some extent. She was Charles' little sister who helped with supplies. He could only vaguely remember catching a glimpse of her during that time. He hadn't given her much thought.

Things had changed when she'd started taking care of Doug. As an honorary Hellion Azazel had made close links to the battalion and had acted as part of their unofficial link to Doug. Heather was attending him, but she wasn't with the group as much as they would have liked. Genosha needed doctors, so she was kept very busy. They all felt responsible for Doug, as they had for all of the other children who'd been brought in. As they had all fallen away the battalion had gotten even more attached to Doug, hoping that he at least would get a happy ending.

That feeling might have been what prompted Heather to volunteer to be his guardian and to have the papers rushed through. Adoption laws in Genosha were as stringent as they anywhere else, but they were more understanding, which made them considerably more flexible. The revolution and the labs had let people know that there really was no black and white, and that there were exceptions.

Raven had always been there, ushering her niece in to cheer Doug up. He'd started out antagonizing her, and from that they'd built up a relationship. Azazel had enjoyed it, obliviously having conversations and seeing her almost daily. As Doug's release date approached he'd become more and more aware that something else was growing.

It was what had made him make the decision to stay away from the hospital. She was eighteen and, while the treacherous voice in the back of his head whispered that that was legal, she was still too young. Even if she had started to feel the same way then time, which the treacherous voice noted that she probably had due to her own actions, that wouldn't change that. In a few years things might be different. As things stood though, it wasn't going to work.

So he gave a heartless shrug, hoping to deflect the conversation from the dangerous territory they were heading into.

"I am that wonderful," he said.

Raven smacked him on the arm and he grinned. They had stepped into dangerous waters just then, and he was glad to have avoided them.

"That's not it," she said, sounding annoyed, "Now, are you going to tell me why the hell you're at the hospital?"

After his previous musings her words had caught him off guard to the point where words left his lips before he had a chance to think about them.

"I am here for Margali," he said.

Raven blinked and he cursed himself.

"What about Margali?" she asked.

"Nothing," Azazel said.

He wanted to teleport himself into the waiting room directly outside the office where Margali was getting examined. He'd originally been too embarrassed to do so, but now it sounded like a great idea. Raven was still looking at him though, her narrow yellow eyes holding him with their glare.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Nyet," he said.

"Then why's she in the hospital?" Raven demanded.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

Raven drew back, looking hurt. He cursed himself again and shook his head. It was time to slow down and think about what he was saying before he said it.

"Nyet," he said, "That is not what I mean. I am sorry."

Raven nodded, swinging her legs on the chair absently. She seemed slightly mollified, and he was grateful.

"Okay," said Raven, "But…if nothing's wrong…"

Her eyes lit up.

"Oh my God," she said, "She's having a baby, isn't she?"

A small spark of panic burst into his mind.

"Nyet," he said, "Where you get such ideas?"

Raven tilted her head triumphantly. There would be no fooling her now.

"I've got a sister-in-law who had a kid a few months ago," she said, "I was at the hospital at the time. It makes sense. You're even in the right area for it."

Azazel groaned. He glared at Raven, who began giggling.

"Do not tell anyone," Azazel said, "Margali wants it to be surprise for Sabu. Nyet children for nine years and now pregnant. Understand?"

Raven nodded and leaned closer. He had to fight the urge to move away. He couldn't do it without looking suspicious.

"So she already knows she's pregnant?" asked Raven.

Azazel shrugged, figuring that he'd already dug himself in too deep to get himself out. He might as well tell her the whole story.

"Da, she already knows," he said, "Back when we were in States she assist many pregnant mothers. Has child of own. Knows signs very well."

"Then why'd she come to the hospital?" asked Raven.

Azazel slouched in his chair.

"I ask this myself," he said, "But…when Stefan was born, nyet hospital. Nyet money, see? So now she wants see if it will be easier with hospital and doctors."

"Oh," Raven said.

She paused, biting her lip.

"I was in the hallway when Moira had David," she said, "That's what it sounded like **with **the doctors. I can't imagine it without."

"We are from hardy stock," Azazel said.

"Sounds like," Raven said.

Azazel smiled.

"We are travelers, all of us, who have found home," Azazel said, "It is something we did not think could have. Never occurred to us."

"Well, I didn't think that I could walk around like this without a mob forming," Raven said, gesturing to herself, "But it appears I can."

He turned his head towards her. He'd had similar feelings about his own appearance and how Genosha had been good to them.

"There should be no place in world where someone such as you should hide," Azazel said, "Only fools do not think such as you have is beauty."

Azazel stopped, realizing his own words. Raven was staring at him, her yellow eyes wide enough to swallow him. He opened his mouth to say something, thinking that perhaps he should try to make another joke to diffuse the situation. Instead Raven leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his.

Brain activity stopped. Her lips began moving under his and, unbidden, he felt himself responding. How could he not? His brain was still sending off warning bells but the treacherous voice was much easier, and much better, to listen to at the moment. As the warning noises got louder he was forced to listen to sense to the good reasons he'd reminded himself with only minutes earlier.

Swallowing he forced himself to push her away. He didn't dare look at her expression as he did so. Without another word he got up, feeling somehow that his act of fleeing had to be physical. His brain was far too disoriented to teleport at the moment. The way he was going he'd end up inside a wall or something.

"Azazel?" Raven asked.

His mind shot into focus. Of course she would want some sort of explanation, to talk it out, and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't feel capable of it. With a deep breath he managed to teleport away. He arrived in the waiting room outside of the office where Margali was being examined. The receptionist jumped at seeing him, but soon settled back into what she was doing.

He took a seat, trying to calm himself down. Raven might know he was in there, but there was someone else there too. She wouldn't try to make a scene. Azazel shuddered with disgust when he realized he was hiding from her, but he really didn't see any other option. His fingers touched his lips, remembering the pressure from their kiss. He quickly withdrew them. The yearning whisperings of his treacherous voice only made him more disgusted with himself.


	40. Chapter 40

_**A/N: **Sorry for the late update. Internet problems.  
_

* * *

September 25, 1960

"Um, Moira?" asked Raven.

Moira finished typing up her report and looked up. Raven stood nervously in the doorway, licking her lips. Frowning Moira cocked her head.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Um…sort of," she said.

Moira frowned again and waited for Raven to elaborate. When she didn't Moira turned her chair away from her typewriter and folded her hands in her lap. Raven swallowed and walked in, closing the door behind her. She took a seat opposite Moira and began fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. Moira continued to wait.

At last Raven sighed.

"I know we never…I don't know…talked about much of anything," Raven said, "I mean we've **talked**…just not about anything serious."

Moira raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

"I just…Charles raised me," she said, "I know you know that. And Charles was more than I had any right to ask for but…he can keep his thoughts to himself. Besides…he's had a hard time seeing me as anything other than his little sister."

Lights went off in her head.

"Is this about boys?" Moira ventured.

Raven nodded, looking grateful.

"Yes," she said.

Simultaneously Moira relaxed and tensed up. She wasn't sure exactly what was coming next, but she figured she'd be having talks like these with Rahne when she was a little older. Rahne and her were very close so she figured there'd be no problem when the situation called for it when she got older.

Raven was a little different. As she herself had said they'd never talked about anything important. Moira had been married to Charles for over a year, and engaged to him for almost as long. Before that they had been business associates. Their relationship, in the eyes of everyone but them, Levine, and Erik, had gone from zero to sixty in a matter of hours. Raven had probably been the one who was most affected, and she had been the one out of the loop.

She had always assumed that there had been a time when Charles had taken Raven aside and explained to her how things stood between him and Moira. Raven had welcomed her and not batted an eye when a ring appeared on Moira's finger. Knowing Charles that conversation had probably taken place relatively soon after he'd found out she quit, but probably before he'd proposed. He wouldn't have wanted to talk about something he didn't think would happen before he knew for definite.

As such she'd had friendly relations with Raven, even if they were a bit distant. Rahne had always been closer to Raven. Rahne had never had trouble making friends with anyone though, so Moira chalked it up to her charm and likeability. She knew that the two had grown closer ever since Rahne had begun visiting Doug at the hospital.

So it made the talk a little daunting. She wasn't sure how acquainted Raven was on the subject, although she was sure Charles had had the talk with her at one point. He was the closest thing she'd had to a father, her only relative. He'd been a student of genetics for a time, so she imagined that the talk was more scientific than practical.

She winced when she thought of that. Charles was a wonderful man, but he could also get distracted. Moira made a note to handle Rahne's education on the subject when she got older. She should probably think about handling David's as well. If not then they'd end up knowing both too much and not enough.

"Alright," Moira said, "What about it?"

Raven fiddled with her sleeve again before looking up at Moira.

"Well, um," Raven said, running a hand through her hair, "It's just…I was trying to…there's this guy I like."

"That's great," Moira said, unsure of what else to say.

"He's older than me," Raven said.

"Oh?" asked Moira, feeling uncomfortable, "How much older?"

"Five or six years," Raven said.

Moira did the math and barely managed to mask a frown. Raven was legally an adult, but it was still strange. She took a step back and thought about it. There were more uneven matches around Genosha. The bonds formed in MRD custody were hard to break. More commonly some mutants had a slower aging factors than others, keeping them youthful for longer. Kayla and Logan were the most prominent example of such a couple. It still seemed odd though.

Her thoughts must have showed.

"I really like being around him," Raven said, her voice defensive, "He's great and thoughtful and…well…he's got a really twisted sense of humor at times but he's a good person."

"I'm sure he is," Moira said, "So what's the problem?"

Raven fidgeted.

"I love him," Raven said.

Inwardly Moira winced. This was bad.

"Are you sure?"

Raven's eyes narrowed. Moira tried to backtrack and explain herself before Raven erupted. She knew from watching Raven and Charles that Raven had a temper on her. If she got angry then it could escalate very quickly. She didn't want to get into a screaming match with her sister-in-law.

"I just mean…" Moira said, searching for words, "There's a difference between having a crush and being in love."

"I know that," Raven said, her eyes flashing.

"I'm sure you do," Moira said, "But those are incredibly important words and I want you to be sure before you say them."

"I'm not just throwing them around!" Raven said.

She glared at Moira.

"I'm not an idiot," she said, "I know what love is. I've been around you and Charles and Erik and Susanna for years. I've seen it!"

Moira shook her head.

"Seeing it and feeling it are different things," Moira said.

Raven took a deep breath and stared Moira in the eyes.

"He called me beautiful," she said.

Moira got up and sat next to Raven. She put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. She'd lived on Genosha and around mutants long enough to know that certain mutations carried certain insecurities with them. People had lived being judged by their mutations all their lives, and rarely in a positive way. From what she'd heard Rahne had been nervous to change shape around others. She'd even been nervous to do so around Kayla when they'd first met her.

For someone with such a physical mutation as Raven who'd had to hide every day outside of Genosha, being called beautiful by someone and having them mean it was special. Whoever this person was that Raven liked they must have known that. If they had said that and meant it then it must have meant the world to Raven, and they would have known that as well. They knew the significance of it and hadn't minded.

"He said that?" asked Moira.

Raven smiled and pulled on a lock of her hair.

"Yes," Raven said.

Moira cocked her head.

"So?" she asked.

"So I kissed him," Raven said.

The confidential, almost gossipy attitude that had pervaded the conversation disappeared. Moira blinked.

"You kissed him?" asked Moira.

Next to her Raven shrugged.

"I knew I was moving too fast," Raven said, "But…I couldn't help it. I really wanted…I really wanted to."

"I know how that feels," Moira said.

Raven smiled and shook her head.

"You and Charles were always better about this," Raven said, "You two kept everything under cover for years."

"Not without difficulty," Moira said, "I can tell you that much."

Raven laughed and looked down.

"And?" prompted Moira.

"And," Raven said, "Well, he kissed back."

A sheepish look came onto her face. Moira put two and two together. She'd been an intelligence analyst for far too long not to.

"First kiss?" asked Moira.

"Well…yes," Raven said, "I mean…most of my life we were running from people so I didn't get a lot of time to…you know."

"Been there, done that," Moira said, "First boy I kissed tried to use tongue."

She winced at the memory.

"It didn't work," Moira said.

Raven laughed, covering her mouth with her hands.

"But he kissed back?" asked Moira, "That's great!"

Her sister-in-law nodded before hesitating.

"And then he ran away," Raven said.

Moira rubbed her temples. The story was like a rollercoaster. The good parts of it were massive highs, but the other parts were terrible.

"He ran away?" asked Moira.

"And I haven't seen him since," Raven said, "I tried to find him because we have some common friends but…well, he didn't mention anything to them. All they said was that he'd been acting strange recently but I couldn't…he's been avoiding me."

"Hmm," Moira said, "How long ago did this happen?"

She saw Raven's eyes tear up even and she ducked her head. Moira could see the frustration showing through her eyes, overpowering any sadness. Moira wondered if she'd gotten it out of her system when no one could see her. She wouldn't put it past her.

"A month," she said.

"A month?" asked Moira.

"Yeah," Raven said, "I...I thought it would work out and I was trying to keep optimistic about it and get on with things. I'm not going to make things weird. "

Moira nodded, admiring the sentiment. Raven seemed to have a grasp of the situation, it was only that she didn't know how to move the situation forward that was bothering her. She sympathized, remembering that helpless and frustrated feeling.

She thought for a while. Moira had limited experience in the department of the opposite sex. Reputations took a lifetime to build in the CIA, but could be destroyed in a matter of minutes if an agent made a poor choice in who they dated. Even one wrong move could send everything spiraling out of control.

Then Rahne had come. She was a mother, which had made her unattractive to several of the men in her life. There were others though, others who had still been trying to ask her out. With Rahne taking up her spare time she'd decided to put it off. Her daughter came first, and she really didn't have the time to mess with all the complications anyway.

Charles had crashed into her life and complicated things anyway, but by some miracle it had worked out. She'd also heard enough of Levine's stories of his own love life and had a few boyfriends in high school and college to muddle through. She also had her experience with Charles, although she wasn't sure that she could compare it to any other relationship she'd heard of. It was unique in its own bizarre way.

"This is going to sound like a strange question," Moira said, "But don't be offended, okay? I just need to make sure."

There was a moment when she thought Raven wasn't going to answer. Then she nodded, looking at Moira intently.

"Are you sure he kissed you back?" asked Moira.

Raven nodded. Moira leaned back in her chair.

"Okay," said Moira, "He sounds like he likes you, but it's the age difference."

Raven opened her mouth to protest, but Moira shook her head.

"You don't mind. I get that," said Moira, "But he's thought about it, and he figures other people will. He knows you don't, but it's still making things hard. You're going to have to have a talk with him, and then you're going to have to wait for him to get over it."

A look of annoyance that flashed across Raven's face.

"It's not easy," Moira said, "But I think it's the only thing you can do right now, especially if you can't find him."

She saw Raven fight a smile.

"I've never been very patient," Raven said, "I think Charles got the lion's share of patience in our family."

"I know. Being patient for this sort of thing isn't easy," Moira said.

"That I know you know about," Raven said.

Feeling sad Moira put a hand on Raven's shoulder. She knew how hard it was for someone as young as Raven.

"I know," Moira said, "But sometimes it's the only thing you can do."

Raven smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Well…who knows?" she said, "Maybe one of these days I'll be as lucky as you and Charles were."

Raven's voice was light. She wondered where the bravery in her had come from, if it had been natural or built from the years running. Either way Moira saw that she had what it took to carry what was happening through to its conclusion, good or bad. Moira managed to smile at her.

"Who knows?" she said.


	41. Chapter 41

_**A/N: **This is why I should have a better numbering system in place in my document manager. Sorry everyone!  
_

* * *

October 3, 1960

"Who's my favorite niece?" asked Emma.

Laura giggled and clapped her hands. From the kitchen Clarice looked over at them and shook her head, but she was smiling. Kayla and Logan had gone out that night, and as usual Emma had been conscripted for babysitting duty. Normally she'd jump at the opportunity. However, she'd already been invited for dinner at Clarice's house, an appointment that she couldn't miss. Azazel was coming that night, and Emma hadn't seen her adopted family together in one place in months.

Kayla had understood Emma's problem. She'd always been grateful and kind to Azazel and Clarice. Emma knew that it was because they'd taken her in after they'd been separated. It was also the reason that she trusted them. Having two people she trusted plus Emma made her feel comfortable enough to give Emma permission to take Laura with her. It was the best of both worlds in Emma's mind.

Clarice was in the kitchen, making something. She was the best cook of the three. Emma could barely boil water without setting something on fire, and Azazel liked his food fried and crispy. Clarice always banished them from the kitchen, and they would lean against the counter and talk to her.

Azazel was running late, but Emma still had Laura to play with.

"Who am I?" asked Emma, "Who am I?"

"Emmy," Laura giggled, "Emmy."

Emma smiled, hugging Laura. Her niece had been stringing together a few words, mostly my, that, no, yes, mama, dada, and Emmy. Emma had been particularly pleased that her niece had her own nickname for her aunt. It was becoming clearer to her each day that Laura was getting more and more adorable.

Curls of black hair had thickened on Laura's hair. Her gray eyes laughed at her and Emma rubbed her nose against Laura's.

"You're spoiling that girl," Clarice said, turning down the heat on her stove.

"I can't help it Clarice," Emma said, "Look at her. Are you saying she doesn't deserve to be spoiled?"

She turned Laura around so that Clarice was hit full force with her niece's adorable face. Clarice rolled her eyes and turned back to the food.

"Okay, okay," Clarice said, "She's the cutest thing on two legs."

Emma nodded in satisfaction. She picked up Laura and walked into the kitchen.

"She's perfect," Emma said.

"You can stop rubbing it in you know," Clarice said.

Emma smirked and shifted Laura.

"Do you think she'll have psionic powers or feral ones?" asked Emma.

"I don't know," Clarice said, "I heard that the x-gene is carried on the y chromosome. I suppose that means that there's a good chance she'll end up with feral abilities."

Tilting her head she looked at Laura.

"She'll end up with psionic ones," Emma said.

Clarice snorted in disbelief.

"What?" asked Emma.

"It's exactly what it sounds like," she said, "I knew you wouldn't even think about her having something other than Kayla's powers."

Emma frowned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Well," Clarice said, stirring the stew, "You keep going on and on about how much she looks like Kayla."

"She does," said Emma.

"Yeah, she does," said Clarice, "But she looks more like Logan."

Emma's frown deepened at Clarice's words. She looked over at Laura, scrutinizing the baby's face. She supposed that there was a lot about her that looked like Logan. Her eyes were gray like Kayla's, and her hair and skin were hers. Her Blackfoot features were coming through in her child.

However, Logan's hair was also dark. Laura could have gotten that from either of them. His features were cut deeply into his face, and Laura's were cut in that same way. Kayla's looks were much more delicate, more sculpted than chiseled. The more she looked the more Clarice's words seemed to ring true.

"I suppose," Emma said, her voice unsure.

Clarice shook her head.

"That's the closest you've come to admitting to Logan being the child's father as I've heard," Clarice said.

"I've never said he wasn't," Emma said.

"No, but you don't think about it," Clarice said, "I know you Emma, and right now you see yourself holding Kayla's daughter. Logan being her father and Howlett being her last name are just coincidences to you."

Emma winced. Clarice really did know her.

"And I know you help out Logan when you can," Clarice said, "But you only think of him as something that makes your sister happy. That's all."

"Of course I do," Emma said, wrinkling her nose, "That's the only way that he matters. I wouldn't have even known more than his name and that he was a berserker in a battle if Kayla hadn't married him. It wouldn't have mattered."

Clarice sighed and moved the stew to a burner that wasn't being used. She turned off the heat and turned to face Emma. Her previous words had made her uncomfortable. Emma was aware that her view of the world was somewhat skewed. She didn't need to be told that. However, she didn't need anyone describing it to her either. It didn't feel right for someone to be telling her her own thoughts.

"You just don't see him as a person," Clarice said.

There was a pause. Emma cocked her head to the side and considered what Clarice was saying. She thought more about how she viewed the world and how Logan fit into that picture. It was true in a way. He was a conduit to her sister's happiness, and she supposed that he served that same function for Laura as well.

"What's wrong with that?" asked Emma, "He just doesn't matter like that."

"That's what I'm talking about," Clarice said, "Outside of me, Azazel, and Kayla…you just shut yourself away from the world."

Clarice's tone began to grate on her nerves. Emma shifted Laura, whose eyes were beginning to close. She was having a hard time concentrating on her at the moment.

"So?" asked Emma.

"So…" Clarice said.

She sighed and folded her hands in front of her.

"I worry about you sometimes Emma," Clarice said.

Emma smiled. It was just Clarice being Clarice, nothing to worry about there. Clarice saw her expression and shook her head.

"No, we're not chalking this up to Clarice-is-a-worrywart," Clarice said, "Look, you've come a long way in a short amount of time."

"A long way from when I was crazy," Emma said, her voice terse, "Yes, I know."

"But…don't you think…I don't know," Clarice said, "In twenty years do you want the only people you know to be people connected to you through other people?"

Emma furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Clarice fidgeted.

"Well, you know Logan, but only because he's married to your sister," Clarice said, "And you know Calvin, but only because he's dating me. And you know some of the Hellions and the Szardos family, but only because they're close to Azazel."

A cold feeling started in the pit of her stomach. Emma's eyes flickered back over to Laura, trying to concentrate on the baby in her arms.

"Don't you want something else from life?" asked Clarice, "Like-"

"Like what you have with Calvin?" Emma snapped, "Or a child like Laura? Or maybe just a big life that encompasses everything like Azazel's?"

Clarice drew back and Emma shook her head, her blonde hair whipping around her.

"You think that you're happy right now so everyone else should be," Emma said, "I get it, I really get it. But I'm not you."

She took a deep breath, trying to get her to understand.

"I can't do that Clarice," she said, "I honestly can't bring myself to. And it's not that I'm scared. I can't."

She wished that there was a way that she could explain the lost feeling she had every time she was tempted to form a tie outside of her worldview. Every time she tried to make room for someone else, or create a circle of friends outside of the four people she cared about more than anything, she found herself unable to. Emma couldn't form those attachments any more than she could control her powers or seek help for her condition before Kayla came.

That was why she needed her worldview to stay intact. She couldn't afford to question it. If she started wondering and trying to move outside it then there was nothing but a gaping hole where her mind had been. Even as she spat out the words at Clarice she felt her hold on the world around her slipping.

She struggled to keep herself together. She was holding Laura. Emma couldn't drop her. She took deep breaths as Clarice stared at her, wide-eyed.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Emma…" Clarice said, reaching for her in a gesture of comfort.

Emma pulled away. She needed to get out of the room. Clutching onto Laura like she was a lifeline Emma fled into the hallway. She threw herself into the room where she'd set up Laura's portable crib. Emma made sure to slam the door behind her, knowing that the teleporter would take it as sure sign that she wanted to be left alone. It was always their sign during the revolution; don't come in.

Staggering she placed Laura into the crib. Almost immediately afterwards she collapsed next to it. Everything inside of her felt weak and she was starting to get dizzy. Emma closed her eyes and tried to take calming breaths. She tried to remind herself of her existence in the world, of the existence of her own system.

Her body still felt weak though, the nerve endings were too raw. She was feeling too much. With a great effort of will Emma turned her skin to diamond, numbing it. She felt relieved then as she slowly started to reweave her mind. Keeping it intact was paramount. When she was better she could leave the room, explain to Clarice, get back to normalcy. Then, and only then, could she resume her life.

Time passed and Emma's breathing quieted. She heard a soft explosion behind her and saw Azazel standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Swallowing she allowed her skin to turn back to flesh. It wasn't nearly as painful as it had been and she looked up at Azazel, who looked down at her calmly.

"Clarice was worried," he said.

Emma nodded.

"She meant well," Azazel said.

"I know," Emma murmured, "I'm not mad at her."

"Good," Azazel said.

He gave her a wry smile.

"I know it is difficult to want something you cannot have," he said, "It hurts, da?"

His eyes reflected something and Emma wondered what was wrong. She was too weak to pursue it further. She'd have to bide her time and figure out what was wrong; if it was something new or merely an old pain. If the only life she could have was helping Clarice, Azazel, Kayla, and Laura be happy, then she wanted to be good at it.

So Emma nodded, feeling her nerves beginning to prickle.

"I can't talk about this," she said.

Azazel nodded.

"Da, I understand," he said, "Clarice will not talk either. She understands now, or is trying to."

He held out his hand.

"Come," he said, "Food is ready."

Emma took his hand and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. She wobbled slightly and Azazel put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She smiled and sighed, taking a step towards the door. At the last minute she remembered Laura and looked back, hoping that she hadn't seen the signs of her aunt's distress.

A glance back showed that, despite everything, Laura had fallen asleep. Emma smiled and gestured to Azazel.

"Isn't she adorable?" Emma gushed.

Azazel nodded.

"Da," he said, "Adorable."


	42. Chapter 42

December 1, 1960

Azazel shifted uncomfortably. Margali looked over at him and raised her eyebrows.

"I know you've never been one for sitting still," Margali said, "But this is ridiculous. What is bothering you?"

"I am anxious to be going," Azazel said.

Margali folded her arms and tapped her foot. Her stomach had begun to show signs of her pregnancy and she had to rest her arms over it.

"Oh, I see how it is. Now it is such a chore to have to take a pregnant woman to hospital," Margali said, "Well, I remind you that you are one who volunteered to help when Sabu was at work. I am not the one who suggested it. Your idea, not mine."

"Da, da," Azazel said, shifting again, "But this was before-"

"Before what?" asked Margali.

Azazel winced. He hadn't meant to say so much. Margali's eyes were on him, sharp and searching. It made him feel like she could read his mind.

"Azazel," she said, her voice suspicious, "I have known you since you were eleven. You are hiding something."

"Nyet-"

"And now you are lying," Margali said.

He shrank back. Her tone certainly reminded him of when he was eleven and had gotten into something he hadn't been allowed to.

"I have had…disagreement with friend who works at hospital," Azazel said.

Margali inclined her head and tapped her foot. When he saw how unsatisfied she was with the story he sighed.

"It was with a devochka," he admitted.

Her eyebrows reached her hairline.

"Oh," Margali said, "Oh."

She stopped tapping her foot and leaned back.

"So now you have girlfriend and are not telling us?" asked Margali, "Azazel, you know better than this."

"I do not have a girlfriend," Azazel said, shrinking back.

Her lips pursed.

"Oh?" she asked, "Then there is more explaining to do."

Azazel shifted, wondering just when the doctor was going to be ready to see Margali. The sooner they parted company the better. The rest of the waiting room was empty; it couldn't be that long. However, from the way she was looking at him he had the feeling she'd tell the doctor to wait until she'd heard the whole story and put her two cents in. Szardos might have been the family name, but Margali was the undisputed head of the house.

"I…care for her," Azazel admitted, "And we kiss."

Margali nodded, her eyes narrowed.

"And how did you mess this up?" she asked.

"Margali," he said, appalled.

"I can tell in your tone that something went wrong," Margali said, "And the constant guilt is that it is your fault. So, what did you do?"

"I left," Azazel said.

"Right after the kiss?" asked Margali.

She looked shocked. Azazel ran a hand through his hair.

"Da," he said.

Margali shook her head.

"You are an idiot," she said.

"I should not have kissed her in first place!" Azazel snapped, "You do not understand. She is younger than me-"

"How much?" Margali asked, not looking at him.

He frowned and went through the age difference in his mind.

"Nearly six years," he said.

Margali's eyes met his in something that looked like irritation mixed with anger. He blinked at her expression, confused as to what caused it.

"Sabu is **eight **years older than I," she hissed.

Azazel winced.

"Nyet…he is…" Azazel said, trying to do the math.

"You think I do not know?" demanded Margali.

"Nyet, nyet," Azazel said quickly, "I just did not know this."

Margali snorted and shook her head, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Sometimes I think I would hit you," Margali said, "Very hard."

He winced just as the doctor came out and called Margali's name. She gave him a hard look as she got up.

"I will go now, but think of this," Margali said, "I think this girl is old enough to make own decision, is she not?"

He nodded, too afraid to do anything other than agree with her. In the back of his mind he knew that yes, she was eighteen, but at the moment he was just concentrating on Margali's fierce demeanor. She could be overpowering at times, and at the moment her anger showed through like a beacon.

"Then let her make it," Margali snapped.

Turning on her heel she walked into the doctor's office. The doctor took a look at her expression and stepped back, fumbling with his chart. Azazel rather felt for him. He was going to receive the brunt of Margali's irritation for the next hour or so, and the doctor had absolutely no preparation for such a force.

As soon as she was out of the room Azazel allowed himself to relax slightly. There was no doubt in his mind that Margali would have more to say on the matter. She was used to being in charge and knowing everything that was happening with her family. It was how she showed she cared, and she was a lion in defense of her family.

The first time he'd been bullied he'd gone back to their caravan. He was used to the names by that point, but it hadn't been any easier. Margali had heard about it somehow or another. At the time she'd been the apprentice to the camp's midwife, barely starting out her life as Sabu's wife.

Nonetheless she'd marched straight out and given both the boys and their mothers an earful. One of them had been the manager's wife, and even she'd been too terrified to pull rank. Margali was a force to be reckoned with, and even Sabu seemed to recognize that he'd married a woman with a much stronger will than his own.

However, in the present situation it was terrifying. The only time she'd been that angry at him was when he'd played with the safety nets in the circus, making them useless. She'd yelled at him how he could have killed them all and, because the whole family was in the acrobat act, he very well could have. Her anger had been justifiable.

Now he couldn't quite understand where the anger was coming from. Obviously he should have been more aware of the age difference between Margali and Sabu. That had been a grave oversight. Still, couldn't she see that at this point it would do a great deal to make the two of them uncomfortable? He didn't want their relationship to be awkward.

He'd also decided to leave out the fact that the girl in question was Raven Xavier. He was sure that she'd agree with him if she knew that. Margali might even apologize, although he doubted it. Logically Azazel knew that it shouldn't matter who the girl's family was, and it didn't change how he felt about her. The repercussions in her family life would probably be poor though, and he wasn't about to open her up to all the nastiness that such a situation would entail.

Azazel leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd try to explain to her as tactfully as possible why her advice on the subject, while kind, was not necessary or useful. Raven was eighteen; Azazel was soon to turn twenty-four. When she was in her twenties it might not be so strange, but right now she was barely legal.

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't notice footsteps or someone sitting down next to him until he heard the words;

"Don't you **dare **teleport."

His eyes snapped open and his head jerked to the side. Raven was sitting next to him, her yellow eyes narrowed and her hands clutching paperwork. Her body posture was taut and defiant, as though she was expecting great resistance. His eyes widened and hers managed to narrow further into slits that reminded him of snakes.

Seeing his expression her lips curled back.

"I said," Raven said, "Don't you dare teleport. I mean it."

Azazel nodded mutely, wondering if there were any other avenues of escape open to him. His eyes darted around, seeing none.

"We're going to talk about what happened ," Raven said, her voice sharp, "And we're going to do so in a brief, short manner where I'm the only one talking. Unless you want to apologize now-"

"I am sorry for what happened," Azazel said, "And I am not just saying this because you are very scary at the moment."

Her lips quirked upwards for a minute before returning to a resolutely firm line.

"Nice," she said, "But you didn't let me finish. You can apologize now and then take me out like I know you want to."

Azazel shrank back before sighing.

"Devochka," he said, "This would not be good idea."

"I thought you'd say that, and I didn't say it was one of the things you could say," Raven said, her expression remaining the same, "So that's why I'm going to be doing the talking from now on. And don't you dare interrupt."

He nodded, feeling more scared of her at the moment than he'd been of Margali.

"So," she said, "our age difference freaks you out."

He started to respond, only to remember that she'd said he should remain quiet, so he cut of his response immediately.

"Good," Raven said, "Well let me start by saying that it doesn't freak me out. Okay? I don't care. And it's not because I'm a young and impetuous girl who's going to make stupid decisions on the spur of the moment. I've thought about this and, because you decided to go run off, I've had plenty of time to do so."

Azazel flinched but Raven plowed on.

"And you're being stupid," Raven said, "I know it and I think you do too. If you hadn't been avoiding me I could've told you sooner."

She shook her head and made a gesture with her hand.

"Even Clarice and Heather couldn't pin you down," Raven said.

He looked at her with panic.

"Oh, they don't know why if that's what you're thinking," Raven said, "I just said that I needed to talk with you."

She snorted.

"I was going to ask Emma," Raven said, "but she seems to be even harder to get in contact with than you."

That did sound like Emma. She'd never really been friends with Raven and he could see how she would be unwilling to make time in her schedule.

"I had to make a deal with the secretary to tell me if you came in," Raven said.

His eyes shifted over to the woman at the desk. Azazel narrowed his eyes, but the woman didn't seem to notice.

"Furthermore, and I want you to listen to this very carefully," Raven said, "I'm willing to wait for you to stop being stupid."

His eyebrows rose and again he felt the urge to say something. She was still glaring at him though, so he kept silent.

"But not forever," Raven said, "We're talking a few months. If you think I'm going to wait a couple of years until I'm older, then you have another thing coming."

She thrust a finger out, poking him in the chest. He moved backwards but she did it again, accenting her words.

"You don't get to dictate how I live my life," Raven said, "If I have to wait a year than I'm giving up on you. I'm not going to make this awkward and harp on it every time I see you; this is the only time I'm giving you this talk. So you'd better take this to heart. "

She put her hand down and gripped her papers tighter.

"Do you understand?" she demanded.

Azazel stared at her, feeling stunned.

"You can say something," Raven said.

He forced his words to move past his lips.

"Da," he said, "I understand."

"Good," Raven said.

She got up, brushing imaginary lint off her skirt. Raven adjusted her papers in her arms, still giving him a scathing look.

"I'm glad we had this talk," she said, "Really cleared things up."

With a nod of her head she turned on her heel and walked down the hallway. Azazel watched her go, disbelief and awe swirling around in his head.


	43. Chapter 43

December 25, 1960

"It was good of you to come."

Erik tilted his beer before finishing it in one swig. Charles leaned back into his chair. A fire crackled in the hearth. Outside the air was freezing, but there was no snow. Genosha would never have snow, but at the right time of the year the climate became cold enough to prompt warm coats and fires in the hearth.

It was enough to make him remember his own Christmases in New York. He doubted he'd ever go back to his childhood home, especially since coming to Genosha he'd been off the island once. Even if he did go back then there would be no one there to welcome him. As much as the thought repulsed him Marko was probably still living in Westchester.

There were still fond memories to be had though. He remembered games of hide and seek with Raven, and the Christmas snow fights had been good. His own children would probably never experience that themselves, but living without fear on Genosha was enough to make up for that small loss.

He took a sip of his own beer, trying to pace himself. It wouldn't be good to get drunk. Erik was already on his third beer though. Charles had always been impressed with Erik's ability to consume copious amounts of alcohol with no ill effects. He'd seen him charge into battle after he'd drunk an entire bottle of wine. He supposed it was his German heritage.

Charles knew how he got after a few glasses, so he was always careful. Getting drunk and acting like an idiot might have been fine when he was a young man and didn't know better, but things were different now. He was Prime Minister with a country to look after, as well as being married to a wonderful woman with two beautiful children. He wasn't going to jeopardize that for a strange feeling of euphoria followed by a smashing hangover a few hours later.

"I could hardly refuse," Erik said, "You came during Hanukkah."

"And you came the Christmas before that," Charles said.

Erik grinned.

"You come to my holidays and I come to yours," Erik said, "We share very little of them after all."

Charles nodded and took a swig of his beer.

"Susanna deserves a large crowd to celebrate these sorts of events with," Erik said, "She does gravitate to big events."

He heard the tenderness in Erik's voice. After the fiasco of the Restriction law he knew that their lives had taken a turn for the difficult. There were more enemies in parliament now; those who were angry at humans had ceased to trust Erik as their outlet. Many of the more moderately angry, or perhaps patient, ones still buzzed about his friend. It was obvious that they were hoping for a relapse, a possibility that Charles was trying to deal with.

On a more personal level relations had also been strained. He knew that Erik was trying to repair the damage he'd done to his marriage. Charles wondered how much difficulty he was going to have. Erik had appeared determined though, and he knew that when Erik set his mind to something it usually got done.

His confidence in his friend's abilities had been rewarded. Susanna's hunted look had begun to disappear and Erik had become more relaxed. He could see that things were different between the two of them. Thier relationship was on solid ground, perhaps even more so than before the law. There was trust there too now, trust that Erik wasn't keeping anything from Susanna. It went a long way to act as a balm for their relationship.

The repairs had gone further than just Erik and Susanna though. Lorna seemed to be enjoying the benefits of her parents' mending their fences, getting more time with her father. Erik was trying to integrate his family into his life now, less work and more outings. He'd seen the increase of Lorna's powers and known that Erik was helping her more.

Charles had also gotten his friend back. It had been hard for the two of them to sit down as they had before the situation. They had talked shop and things, but there had been a strained awkwardness. The betrayal ran deep and Charles wasn't sure how to approach the situation. He forgave him and Erik knew that, but it was hard to get past what had happened.

It was only when they had begun playing chess again that things had begun to be how they once were. Levity had come back and by the time the winter had descended on Genosha Charles felt like things were returning to the way they once were. Now, instead of wondering what the future would bring, the uncertainty of being tricked by someone, and the fear of losing everything he'd worked for, Erik smirked at him from across the drawing room.

"And our wives seem to like socializing," Erik said.

"Oh, come now. It's not just our wives; it's traditional," Charles said, "Holidays are for friends and family."

He smiled to himself.

"And for when the two mingle," he said.

Erik nodded and put his bottle on the side table. From the room next to them they heard a shriek of laughter. Erik smirked again.

"You know Charles," he said, "The toy swords were a really wonderful idea, as well as a really terrible one."

Charles frowned.

"Terrible?" he asked.

"Well, let's start with the wonderful part," Erik said, "I think it's better that my daughter see herself more as a knight than a princess in a tower, wouldn't you agree?"

"More Isabelle of Castille and less Marie Antoinette?" Charles asked.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"You need to read less and use more understandable terms," Erik said, "No one is ever going to understand you."

"So Raven keeps telling me," Charles laughed.

He thought of his sister in the next room, and how busy she'd been in helping out with the preparations for the day. She seemed to have an inner fire in her at the moment, although he didn't know where it had come from. He'd have to ask her about it. Still, if she'd wanted him to know then she would have said something about it.

"But if that's true, then why are they terrible?" asked Charles, "I thought they would rather enjoy it."

"Oh, they do," Erik said, "And I'm sure they'll have a lot of fun."

He shook his head.

"I can just see them now; running around the palace challenging each other to duels," Erik said, tapping his armrest with his fingers, "And then when they want to work together for a change, moving on to Lorna's bodyguards."

Charles winced.

"Poor Neena," he said.

"Poor Neena," Erik agreed.

He shook his head.

"Lorna is an obedient child," he said, "Quiet, bright, and happy."

He paused for a minute before grinning.

"But she has a wild streak as well," Erik said, "It's not malicious, but she can be very stubborn at times."

"I wonder where on earth she gets that from," Charles said.

Erik laughed.

"Yes, and I know where some of Rahne's behaviors come from," Erik said.

Putting his bottle down Charles raised a hand.

"I'm going to stop you right there," Charles said, "I can't claim the responsibility for what a wonderful child Rahne is. Moira did the work there."

"And you're helping now," Erik said, "You've been a father for nearly two years now. How are you liking it?"

Charles thought for a moment. He looked over at the door to the room next to him. In that room his new daughter was playing with her toys. She was probably laughing at a Christmas special or trying to swordfight with Lorna. Rahne was doing well in school, a clever child who was fiercely protective of her friends.

His newborn son was growing like a weed, healthy and bright-eyed. David was probably playing with the wrapping paper, or asleep with his hands in his mouth. Dark brown hair was starting to grow in and they were told that they could expect his first words, followed by his first steps, fairly soon.

"Very much," Charles said, his words soft, "Very much indeed."

Erik nodded. Charles swallowed, trying not to think on it too much.

"But," he said, "you're the expert here. How am I doing?"

His friend smiled.

"Very well Charles," he said, "Very well indeed."

On the mantelpiece the clock chimed. Erik looked over and made a gesture with his hand to the clock.

"It's getting late," he said, "We'd better start heading home."

"Alright then," Charles said, getting up.

He met Erik at the door, shaking hands with him. In the next room he saw that Susanna had been having similar thoughts. Lorna was already dressed in her coat, carrying the gifts she'd gotten. Her whispers with Rahne seemed to confirm what Erik had said; the two would be up to mischief soon. He couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it earlier.

Erik nodded at Susanna who began saying her goodbyes to Moira. Then she took Lorna by the hand and headed to the door, Erik joining them on the way.

"We'll have to do this again on New Year's," Charles said.

"On New Year's we'll have to do a public celebration," Erik sighed, "I hate those."

"So do I," Charles said, "But I'm sure we can have something a bit more private as well, don't you think?"

"Of course we will," Susanna said.

Erik smiled at her and the family walked out the door. Outside their car was waiting. Charles could just make out Neena and Arthur inside, playing cards. Rahne crowded close and waved at them with the rest before they drove off into the night. When they were gone Moira shut the door against the cold.

"I think it's time you got to bed Rahne," Moira said.

"But mom-" Rahne whined.

"No buts," Moira said, "We said you could stay up until Lorna left, didn't we? And that's two hours past your usual bedtime."

Rahne nodded, although she still looked like she wanted to protest. Moira bent down and kissed Rahne on the forehead. Charles did the same before Rahne gathered up her things and hurried upstairs. She flashed them a grin before she disappeared into her room. Charles smiled and shook his head.

"She's growing up so fast," he said.

Moira squeezed his hand.

"I know," she said.

Charles smiled and looked around the room.

"Where's David and Raven?" he asked.

"Raven went to bed a few minutes ago," Moira said, "And I put David up an hour ago. Since it's Christmas I let him fall asleep sucking on his hands."

"You'll spoil him," Charles said, "However…"

He grinned.

"…alone at last."

Moira laughed and led him to the couch. They both sat down and Moira leaned her head on his shoulder, gazing at the Christmas tree.

"You know," Moira said, her voice soft, "It's been a wonderful day."

"It has," Charles agreed.

She hesitated, turning her head to face his.

"I've got a surprise for you," she said.

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, "Why am I just hearing of this now?"

Moira grinned and took both his hands in hers.

"I wanted to wait until it was just the two of us," she said.

His eyebrows raised even further and Moira swatted his arm.

"Not like that," she said.

"I didn't say anything," Charles said.

She rolled her eyes but clasped his hands tighter.

"Charles," Moira said, "I'm pregnant."

Charles blinked. He'd assumed that, if he found out he was going to be a father three times over, he'd be able to handle himself better than he did the first time. Instead it felt like the world had dropped out from under him and a haze had clouded his senses. Charles took a deep breath, searching for words.

"So…so…soon?" he said weakly.

Moira nodded.

"I went to the hospital the other day," she said, "Managed to avoid Raven. But…I suppose we should have seen this one coming."

She grinned and Charles nodded; they should have. He removed his hands from hers and cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Well," he said, "we'll have to get ready, won't we?"

"Yes," Moira agreed.

"After all," Charles said, "I so enjoy being a father."


	44. Chapter 44

February 20, 1961

"Alright, everyone ready?" asked Calvin.

There were nods of assent from the rest of the team. Calvin looked them over. Time had passed and, with new information, the Hellions were about to make another strike on an MRD base. It was the first one since their trip to Italy, and they had been biding their time for as long as they dared. Their secret war would continue, with the Hellions in the front lines.

"Okay guys," he said, "You know what's happening here. You know the plan."

He was met by another chorus of nods. His eyes rested on Colossus in particular. It was the boy's first field operation if he didn't count the fiasco in the square. They figured they could trust him though. He'd gotten rid of most of his anger, something that they couldn't afford to indulge in on these trips.

Calvin looked out the window. Below them, the Canadian wilderness stretched outwards, shrouded by night. They'd received intelligence that there was another base in Canada, further inland than the one at Alkali Lake had been. He had to wonder at all of the bases in Canada. Perhaps they had ties with the government, something he knew that the Genoshan intelligence service was already looking into.

They'd had information that it functioned mostly as a place to relay their information. The whole place was a giant transmitter, but he wouldn't put it past them to be doing some experimentation as well. They had to shut it down as well as retrieve the records of all outgoing messages before doing their usual job of rescuing the prisoners and destroying the place.

They all had to be on high alert. Members of the Weapon X team still hadn't been apprehended, but that was nothing new. They were still on the Genoshan most wanted list, right beneath Stryker and Craig. Bringing one of them in would help their investigations, although Calvin knew that their first priority was to shut down the bases and rescue any imprisoned mutants.

"Right now I bet the MRD thinks we've forgotten about them," Calvin said, "Or maybe they think we think we've gotten the last of them. Either way the last thing they're going to see coming is us raining hell down from the skies. You all got that?"

"Hell yeah!" Morph yelled.

There was a chorus of similar responses. Calvin cracked his knuckles and looked over at Psylocke, surpassed only by Colossus in her rookie status, who was flying the plane. He knew she wasn't happy at having to stay behind and act as pilot for as long as she did. However, she was the most skilled pilot they had at the moment.

"Are we approaching the first drop zone?" he asked.

"Yes sir," she said.

"Alright," he said.

Calvin turned back to the rest of the team.

"Alpha squad, get ready to drop!"

Morph, Thunderbird, and Colossus got up, each one checking their parachute. Thunderbird wrenched the door to the bomber open and, one after another, they dropped. Calvin watched each one go and let his eyes wander over to the bravo team. They were already checking their parachutes in preparation.

"Nearing the second drop zone," Psylocke said.

Calvin nodded and saw bravo team jump out of the window. When they were gone it left him, Sunfire, Sasquatch, and Psylocke on the plane. Sasquatch, as their team's medical officer, would sneak in around the back after Psylocke had safely hidden the plane. Her shapeshifting abilities and Psylocke's blades would grant them entry.

He knew she'd been enjoying the team's rest from missions, working at the hospital and taking care of her new ward. Calvin had been enjoying the time off as well, he had more time with Clarice now, but he knew it was yet another thing they couldn't afford to indulge in. They'd known what they were getting into when they'd signed up.

He waited a few minutes before looking at Sunfire. She nodded, only she didn't check her parachute. Her powers and role in their endeavor dictated that she wouldn't need one.

"Nearing the third drop zone," Psylocke said.

Calvin hurried over to the plane's door, tapping his parachute to make sure it was secure. After taking a deep breath he jumped out, feeling his stomach summersault to his throat. The urge to pull at his parachute was overwhelming, but he had to resist it. If he didn't then he knew he could end up deploying too soon.

After waiting the required time he pulled the chute open, feeling himself tugged roughly back into the air. His insides jerked around, but after that there was a blessed calm. Calvin had never understood the attraction of flying or parachuting recreationally. It just made him feel sick, not something he'd want to do for fun.

Above him the sky lit up. Sunfire, encased in orange flames, was blazing a path across the night sky. She was drawing attention from the base, making its inhabitants think that they were dealing with a much larger force. Calvin took a good look at her direction before he looked down at the ground. He'd be meeting up with her later.

Calvin landed safely, his feet dangling from the ground. He disconnected himself from his parachute and continued on foot towards the base. There were outside communication points that he needed to take out on his way to the base. Alpha team was responsible for the base proper, and he was sure he'd be seeing them soon enough. Thunderbird and Colossus were the tanks of the team and, while Morph loved goofing around, he could be counted on to lead them successfully. He'd earned his place as second in command of the Hellions.

Slowly he approached the first of the communication points. He could make out a few men milling about, pointing in the direction of Sunfire's blaze. Calvin dropped to the ground, creeping as quietly as he could forwards. He had the element of surprise on his side, now all he had to do was take advantage of it.

When he was only a few feet away from the communication point he let his skin turn to metal. Having two people with the same power on the team might have seemed redundant, but Colossus' power was too useful to pass up. He'd done the same thing with Northstar, a mutant in Bravo team with super-speed. It was hard to use in conjunction with Colossus' power, but it was still good on normal terms.

Neither of them minded, and he'd been sure to ask beforehand. Even Logan knew that he'd borrowed his healing factor now. He'd gotten an earful about asking first, but Logan hadn't really minded. Like Christopher Logan wanted to make sure that the Hellions came back from their missions alive and in good condition.

Leaping forward Calvin charged the nearest guard. A hit from his metal fist smashed his head in and Calvin felt bullets ricocheting off his back. He turned around and pulled down the second guard before barreling into a third. He heard the man's ribs crack, piercing his heart. With no one else outside Calvin rammed into the building, breaking the door down.

There were two scientists inside, looking more surprised than anything. The first went for the alarm and Calvin pushed him back, snapping his neck against the wall. The second scientist looked at his fallen friends and dropped to his knees. His hands were raised into the air, looking like he'd done it more out of instinct than fear.

Calvin allowed the skin of his arm to turn back to flesh before he punched the man, knocking him out. Taking in live scientists always helped them with their inquiries. They could often provide information on how to help those they'd been experimenting on. In some cases they could save lives.

He tied him up before destroying the communication point. He'd never been particularly good at some of the fancier technology, but in this case it was simply a matter of destroying everything. Bravo team was in charge of hacking the outgoing messages to bring back to Genosha. When he was done he let his skin go back to flesh and switched to the speed he'd borrowed from Northstar. It was time to get going.

Running at speeds of excess sixty miles an hour was tricky, especially if he wasn't used to it. Calvin was constantly on his guard to avoid every roadblock, because falling on his face at sixty miles an hour was going to be incredibly painful. He'd asked Northstar how he did it once, who'd simply told him that to him everything looked like it was moving slower. It didn't help.

However, it got him to the second communication point easily. Calvin hadn't expected much trouble. He'd been assigned the most lightly guarded points, considering that he was by himself. He destroyed it even easier than the first one, since there were no scientists inside and most of the soldiers had gone to assist the base. Colossus' form was a big part of that and he knew he'd be holding onto it for several years. He hadn't found anything since Logan's healing factor that was so useful in the field.

There was only one more point for him to approach and destroy, the point that he planned on meeting Sunfire at. Afterwards the two of them would continue to the base proper. Then it would just be standard procedure; round all of the prisoners up and then blow the place to hell. It was always the best part for the former prisoners.

Calvin reached the last communication point. There were no soldiers outside it, but he didn't think it odd. In cases of attack the MRD soldiers routinely abandoned their posts and congregated in the main building. They'd learned enough about their tactics by that point to have a good idea of what to expect.

In hindsight Calvin saw that he shouldn't have been so careless. Just because someone had always done something one way didn't mean they would continue to do so. How many times had Christopher shouted at him to expect the unexpected? Apparently it hadn't been enough, because Calvin threw caution to the wind and opened the door to the point.

Inside a man with a red sleeveless shirt and two katanas strapped to his back looked up. By his side was a man in a cowboy hat, tapping away at the computer. For a minute Calvin stared at the pair, and they stared back at him. He knew their names from the most wanted list, and also the fact that he was outnumbered.

Wilson grinned, reaching back for his katanas. Calvin immediately turned his skin to metal, just in time to have a katana come down on his arm. The katana bounced off and Wilson frowned, his eyes flashing. He ducked in time to avoid a punch from Calvin and began bringing his sword around again.

"Hey Johnny-boy, no worries. Go ahead and feel free to take your time over there," Wilson laughed, "This is fun!"

Eyes narrowing Calvin kicked Wilson's legs out from under him. Wilson jumped back, getting leverage off a wall and launching himself at him. The force of the impact knocked Calvin back into another wall, breaking a table. He felt Wilson begin to chip away at the metal skin, leaving dents with his katanas. Calvin was reminded that he only had half of Colosssus' powers; he wasn't invulnerable.

The fact was hit home when Wraithe finished whatever he was doing and latched on around Calvin's neck, digging his knives in. Calvin whirled around him, hitting and taking down anything near to him. Equipment broke and sparks flew in the air, but Wraithe teleported out of the way and he only managed to nick Wilson.

"You're spoiling the fun Johnny-boy!" Wilson said.

Calvin lashed out, stepping on Wilson's foot with his metal one. Throwing his weight on it he dived to the side. He heard the crunch of bones and Wilson went down. Despite the pain Wilson moved forward and his sword banged deep into Calvin's leg. He knew that if he were in flesh form he'd be bleeding, perhaps even faster than his healing factor would be able to deal with. He'd need to get to Sasquatch before he changed back.

Wraithe shoved him to the ground and Calvin hit his head hard. Wilson was pounding away at him with his swords and he could feel the dents on his skin. His foot kicked out and he saw Wraithe go flying, teleporting before he slammed into the wall. He'd broken something but he couldn't see what. Wraithe's injuries weren't affecting Wilson though; he just continued to whirl his swords around, keeping Calvin on the ground.

A burst of light and heat entered the room. Calvin felt the familiar flames around him and went still, knowing that he was going to have to avoid what was coming next. Wilson looked up in time to have a face full of Sunfire's flames hit him in the chest. He screamed and rolled around, putting them out.

She kicked open the door, heading straight for Wraithe. Already her flames were gathering around her again, causing plastic to melt around her and her hair to fly up. Wraithe took one look at Sunfire before grabbing Wilson. The two of them teleported out just in time to avoid one of Sunfire's fireballs.

Allowing the flames to disappear Sunfire rushed over to Calvin.

"Hey, Mimic," Sunfire said, "Are you okay?"

Calvin nodded, allowing Sunfire to help him up. She winced under the effort of helping a man made of metal to his feet.

"Were those…?" Sunfire said, her voice trailing off.

He nodded again.

"Weapon X," he said, "Weapon X were at this facility. And they took off when the going got tough."

He took a deep breath.

"Do you know what that means?" he asked.

Sunfire shook his head.

"They're not going to fight us," Calvin said, "They're doing a strategic retreat. They're trying to lead us somewhere or save themselves for something."

"Save themselves for what?" asked Sunfire.

Calvin let out a frustrated breath.

"I don't know."


	45. Chapter 45

April 22, 1960

"Beautiful, would you not say?"

Azazel leaned over from his position against the wall, smiling. It felt wonderful to have such a peaceful moment. After the Hellion's latest encounter with the MRD things were getting busy. He'd been called in again to help them. As the cabinet's military adviser he'd been the one to help Christopher and Logan manage the incoming demands.

Currently the hellions were branching out and going over the raw data they had collected from the base in Canada. Their knowledge of MRD codes was extensive, they'd been the first name to call to fight them for years, but even they were having trouble. They had called in agents from the intelligence department, but progress was still slow.

So far they could only tell that Weapon X had marching orders, not what they were. There were definitely being shipped out to different locations. They had narrowed down the other locations down to two. The messages seemed to indicate that Stryker and Craig were at one of them, so they needed the locations more than ever. However, they couldn't figure it out. Not yet.

However, all of that seemed very far away at the moment. Now everything was only silence and softness. From across the hospital room Sabu smiled at him, pride glowing in his eyes. Stefan peered over the bed rail curiously. Azazel simply stood with his hands in his pockets, his smile widening by the second.

In Margali's arms her new daughter swatted at the air. The birth had taken several hours, but Margali and her daughter were both resting comfortably. There had been no complications and Margali said that she felt fine, attributing it to the new drugs she could take. Azazel thought back to what Raven had said about birth with the lack of drugs and shuddered.

However, there was nothing to shudder about in the scene that was laid before him. The child who was the center of attention lay in her mother's arms, wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Her blue eyes glowed as she blinked and opened her mouth and closed it like a guppy. Margali reached out her finger and the little girl reached for it.

"She is beautiful," Azazel said.

Margali leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"My little girl," she said, "Why do you have blonde hair? Your father does not have blonde hair. I have brown. Where did this come from?"

"I have no idea," Sabu said, "The milkman has black hair."

Azazel threw his hair back and roared with laughter. Margali swatted Sabu's arm playfully. Stefan looked at them with confusion.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Azazel snorted with laughter. He teleported over and ruffled Stefan's hair. He might have grown up fast, but not that fast.

"I will explain when you are older," Azazel said.

Margali shook her head.

"No Azazel. No teleporting around the baby," she said, "She has little lungs. She will not like the sulfur."

"Da, da," Azazel said, "So, what will you name her? I cannot think of her as the baby for rest of life."

Sabu smiled.

"We were thinking of Jimaine," he said, "It was my mother's name."

"Jimaine Szardos," Azazel said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "Da, I see that this is good name."

Margali nodded, tapping her daughter's nose.

"I was thinking something less traditional for her middle name," Margali said, "Perhaps something like Amanda."

Azazel rubbed his chin again.

"Jimaine Amanda Szardos," Azazel said, "Even better."

Sabu walked up to the bed and kissed Margali on the forehead. Stefan peered at his sister before yawning loudly. Looking at his son fondly Sabu put his hand on his shoulder.

"Looks like he's getting sleepy," Sabu said.

"He's been here all day," Margali said.

Her husband looked at Stefan and hesitated. Immediately Azazel could see the problem. In the past Margali had given birth at home. She'd assisted in similar births and there was an established pattern. There had never been any question of hospitals or when they would bring the mother and child home for the first time. There hadn't been the money and it had just been more efficient to do it as they always had.

Now everything was different. They had the money to go to a hospital, and they were no longer in their old community. Azazel could tell that Sabu knew that he should be taking his son home to go to sleep. Otherwise Stefan was going to fall asleep on his feet. At the same time he didn't want to leave his wife alone after she had just given birth. Azazel leapt in. He could give them a second present.

"I can take him home," Azazel said.

Sabu gave him a grateful look.

"And you will bring me him back tomorrow morning?" asked Sabu, "I want us all to be able to take Jimaine home for the first time."

"What, you think I will take him someplace and leave him there?" asked Azazel.

Stefan giggled and Margali rolled her eyes.

"How does nine o'clock sound?" asked Azazel.

"It sounds perfect," Margali said, "Thank you."

Azazel nodded, feeling pleased.

"Can I see her a little bit first?" asked Stefan, "Please?"

Margali smiled and nodded.

"Alright," she said.

She looked up at Azazel.

"I will send him down in a while," she said, "He wants to look at his sister some more. I do not blame him."

Azazel nodded again smiling.

"I will go bring the car around and wait in lobby," he said, "Once again, congratulations Margali, Sabu."

He winked at Stefan.

"And you too older brother," Azazel said, "It is a very important title you know. Many responsibilities. I think you are up for it."

Stefan beamed. Azazel looked down at the child in Margali's arms.

"And congratulations to you, little Jimaine," he said, "this is your first day. I hope it has been a good one."

Jimaine mewled and Azazel laughed. With a bow he teleported to the parking lot. He'd never learned how to drive before he came to Genosha. There had never been any point. However, now he was transporting families and military equipment. It was something of a requirement now.

He pulled the car up in front of the hospital in the short term parking lot. In theory he could have just taken Stefan and teleported him to the parking lot. However, he wanted to give Stefan some time with his new sister. They were just getting acquainted and he wanted to let them get to know each other.

Azazel teleported to the lobby and sat down, putting his hands in his pockets. His eyes scanned the lobby. He felt a sort of euphoric build in his stomach. Azazel rolled the new child's name around in his head. Jimaine. It sounded like a name heavy with destiny.

He laughed to himself. He was being silly, but it was hard not to be when there was a new baby. Azazel could still remember when Stefan had just been born. He'd been fifteen then, having only been with the Szardos family for four years. Azazel had been shocked but flattered and touched when he'd been named Stefan's godfather.

From the other side of the hall he heard the clicking of shoes. He looked up and saw Raven walking down, her arms free from paperwork for once. She saw him and smiled. Azazel swallowed whatever awkwardness swelled up. He became acutely aware of the fact that, after such a long delivery, his clothes were rumpled and he hadn't washed or shaved his extra stubble. He probably looked like a mess.

Azazel cursed himself. He couldn't afford to embarrass himself any further in front of her, but he had no say in how he looked at the moment.

"I hear Margali had a girl," Raven said.

"Da," Azazel replied, "Her name is Jimaine."

"That's a pretty name," Raven said.

"She is a pretty baby," Azazel said.

There was a slight pause. Raven shifted her feet and Azazel felt terrible. Her smile faltered a little, but he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been looking very hard.

"Congratulations," she said, beginning to walk again.

"Thank you," Azazel said.

He watched her leave, feeling the euphoria he'd felt leave with her. After Raven had declared her intentions to him they'd had several polite, if not strained, conversations. He knew that he was the one to blame. What could he do though? She'd given him a deadline that he wasn't fully comfortable with.

At the same time she had a point. What girl would wait years and years for a relationship where the only roadblock was age? They weren't waiting for her to turn eighteen or anything like that. A few years wouldn't close the gaps between their ages; they would still be the same amount of years apart. It wasn't rational.

Azazel recognized the treacherous voice inside his head when he heard it, but he began to wonder if it was so treacherous after all. Perhaps it was only giving him a view into what he wanted but was too afraid to pursue. If that fear was the only thing keeping them apart, then that made him a coward. If that made him a coward than he was unworthy to have gained Raven's affections in the first place.

He squared his shoulders and got up. Azazel straightened his jacket as best he could. There were no mirrors, but he figured that she'd already seen him. It was too late to worry about something as trivial as his appearance. He'd just have to take a deep breath and hope for the best. Closing his eyes Azazel teleported to the end of the hallway.

* * *

Raven tried to summon up that patience that Charles so famously had in abundance. She knew Azazel wanted to be with her. However, she didn't know if he wanted it enough to get over his fears and prejudices to do so. It frustrated her that there was so little she could do to change his mind and her patience was wearing thin.

Unlike Charles, if Raven wanted something, she snatched at it. Charles had always had things he needed around him when he was a child. If he was hungry there was food, if he was cold there was a blanket. She knew that he was starved for affection, but other than that he'd grown up well-provided for. Raven had grown up in an environment where, if she didn't take something, then she wasn't going to get it.

It was why she was working at the hospital. If she didn't jump at the volunteer positions then it would be difficult for her to become a doctor when she got older. Now that she was on the verge of graduating that was more important than ever. She was capable of making her own decisions. She just wished Azazel would see that.

Sighing in frustration she walked down the end of the hallway. A sudden explosion startled her back into the nearest wall. Azazel stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets. He looked at her awkwardly and Raven stared back, unsure what his purpose there was and therefore unsure of what she should do.

Azazel swallowed and moved forward. Any signs of awkwardness or hesitation leeched from his face. Raven backed into the wall, wondering what was going on. He spread his palm on the wall next to her face and leaned on it. Azazel wasn't smirking, but his face was flickering with several different emotions.

"Saturday," he said at last.

"Sorry?" asked Raven.

"Saturday at seven," Azazel said, "Would this be good for dinner?"

Raven stared at him, her mouth opening mutely. Finally she nodded.

"Good," he said, "Then it is date."

She blinked at him, wondering what to say next. Then, with no warning, he stooped his head down and kissed her. It was a clumsy kiss at best, but she was sure that hers had probably been just as uncertain. Her lips moved against his and she felt his tongue stroke her lips, making her knees go weak.

He pulled away from her, his eyes dark.

"I…will see you Saturday," Azazel said, "Meet here, da? That is good?"

"Yes," Raven said, finding her voice at last, "That's good."

She grinned slightly and Azazel smiled back. He teleported himself away and Raven was left alone in the hallway. For a minute she stood still, touching her lips and trying to convince herself of the reality of the encounter. Then she detached herself from the wall and began walking down the hallway, whistling to herself as she did so.


	46. Chapter 46

July 19, 1961

Moira walked into her car, shutting the door behind her and throwing her briefcase in the back. She began fishing around in her purse for her keys and, once finding them, started the engine up. As the sun set she pulled out of the parking lot of the intelligence building, starting up her first day on maternity leave.

She put one hand on her stomach, wincing. Unlike her first, her second pregnancy had been fraught with morning sickness and nausea. Moira could barely stand the smell of cooking meat or strong perfumes. Charles had worried that something was wrong, but she'd been assured repeatedly by the doctors that nothing was wrong with either her or her unborn child.

The child growing inside of her wasn't much of a kicker like David, but it didn't provide much relief. It just meant that if she woke up in the middle of the night it wasn't because the baby decided to play football in her stomach. It meant that she was about to lose her dinner, and all over the bedroom if she couldn't make it to the bathroom.

She reached out and grabbed a candy bar that she had hidden in the dash. Moira had started to lose weight as a result of her nausea, so she'd taken to keeping snacks around that were high in calories. Sometimes she'd be lucky and it would stay down long enough for her to digest it. Eating sweets and fats tended to lose their appeal when she knew she'd be seeing it again in a few hours.

Taking a bite out of the candy bar she turned a corner. Either way her pregnancy was ending fairly. The doctors said that the baby would be arriving in about six weeks. She could've started earlier. The maximum allowance for maternity leave was two months during the end of the pregnancy and one month afterwards, taken at the mother's discretion. She would've taken advantage of it, but Moira's job wasn't one that you could skip out on for three months without serious consequences.

She still marveled at the laws that allowed such luxury. Genoshan maternity laws were generous thanks to Susanna and a veritable godsend, especially to a woman who'd been trying to hide her constant nausea from her co-workers. She'd already had one or two concerned looks thrown her way. The last thing she needed was a rumor starting that the Prime Minister's wife was having trouble with her pregnancy.

She might have left sooner if there hadn't been so much work to do. As it was she was still going to be working from her house. Her job, like Charles, wasn't one that you ever really got a break from. The only thing that changed was that less people decided to call you and you stayed at your house. You still got all the faxes and messages and, if there was an emergency, you would have to go back into work.

The latest situation was particularly puzzling and, although she'd been loath to leave it hanging, she knew that any breakthrough that was made on the case wouldn't be made by her. It was all up to linguists and codebreakers. Moira had never been involved in that part of the CIA; she'd been the person they'd to do surveillance or fetch numbers. The codebreakers were in their own league, one that Moira valued but didn't fully understand. She believed it to be similar with all other intelligence agencies around the world.

The data that the Hellions captured had been decoded, but it still made no sense and there were no definitive conclusions that could be drawn from it. The descriptions of the two remaining facilities were vague, and could be at any one of a dozen locations. The manpower behind their positions was staggering and Moira had to wonder just who they were allied with to have so many resources.

The resurfacing of Weapon X was also troubling. What had Wilson and Wraithe been doing at that base? Were they just making the rounds and making sure that their most valuable communication point was well defended? Considering the almost immediate subjugation of it by the Hellions she doubted it. If they were guarding it then all of them would have been there, although she was under the impression that Weapon X had been decimated after Cain had kidnapped her two years ago.

She took another bite. Weapon X was still hard to fathom. She had a hard time believing that a people so persecuted would turn on each other. Moira knew that it had happened many times in history; people's penchant for greed and bloodlust transcended time. Even so it was hard to imagine people in a common situation turning on each other.

Her stomach roiled and Moira nearly choked on her candy bar. She forced it down, refusing to be sick in her car. They'd never get the vomit out of the upholstery if she did, and she wasn't driving home with the smell clinging in the air. That would only lead to more nausea, and the destructive cycle would continue.

She took a deep breath, unable to close her eyes while on the road. Katherine and Susanna had given her some pointers. Apparently Alex had been nothing but trouble while she was pregnant with him. Susanna had also been sick from the moment Lorna had hit four months to the moment she was born. They both agreed that they'd had easy births though, something Moira hoped would ring true with her second child. Having an easy birth was something of an oxymoron, but she could hope.

Sonogram technology still had yet to come to Genosha so, like with David, she'd be in the dark about her child's gender. Rahne was convinced it was going to be yet another boy. Moira didn't mind the idea of having another son, but Rahne's surety on the matter was interesting. She seemed confident that she was going to get another brother.

In practical terms a girl or a boy didn't matter. David's current nursery was big enough for an addition, and green was a neutral color. Having the two of them in the same room was a good idea; David was still very young and the room was fully equipped for a newborn. They'd get their own rooms when they got older.

Moira wasn't sure how much they'd use them though. Rahne was constantly in the nursery, trying to help out with David. At eleven years old she was a confident girl, probably something she'd gotten from the years where Moira was a single parent with no money for day care. Rahne was fully equipped to take care of herself, and she'd made sure that she'd had the ability to take care of David as well.

She smiled when she thought of that. Rahne had all but begged Moira to let her babysit David from time to time. She'd given her a trial run with Raven supervising a few times, and had proven herself capable. Moira wasn't particularly fond of leaving her children alone in the house, but as always Moira knew that Rahne knew better than to go near the stove, never to answer the door, and to leave the phone alone.

The longest term of Rahne's babysitting had lasted five hours when Raven's volunteer hours had run late at the hospital. Moira still had her suspicions that that hadn't all been a volunteer trip, Raven was walking with a new bounce in her step, but she kept her suspicions to herself. If Raven was with whomever she'd had problems with, then good for her.

Still, she wanted to get back as quickly as possible. The sun was already setting and she didn't like the idea of Rahne being alone with David at nighttime. She gently pushed on the gas pedal, throwing the remains of her candy bar wrapper in the passenger's seat. She'd clean the car out later; not wanting it to fill up with rubbish.

The lane around her started to clear and her car moved forwards. Rush traffic had just started up for the day; six o'clock was the time most people got out of work. Moira generally didn't get out until seven. She'd only been leaving early because it was her last day. Rahne was probably taking good care of David, but she was still only eleven years old.

As she turned another corner she felt the ground rumble beneath her. It was just a slight tremor, but it was enough for her to notice. Moira frowned, wondering if there was some construction going on nearby. Another, stronger rumble accented the first and Moira immediately thought of an earthquake. In the years she'd been living there she'd never even heard of an earthquake, but there was a first time for everything.

Her thoughts immediately went to her children and Moira started to navigate to the house. If there was an earthquake then they needed her to be there yesterday. She was only a few minutes away; she'd be able to reach it soon. The ground continued to shake and Moira could feel the tremors in the ground increase.

A strong tremor knocked the car off the road. The jolt hit her hard and she clipped her chin against the wheel. The car skidded into the field, whirling around a few times. Moira clutched onto the steering wheel, trying to regain control. Her efforts proved fruitless and the car continued spinning. After a few minutes the spinning stopped and Moira covered her mouth and closed her eyes, feeling disoriented and lost.

When she opened her eyes again she saw that her windshield had cracked, but the airbags hadn't deployed. Immediately her hand went to her stomach and her heart leapt into her throat. The jolt had been hard, and she tried to tell herself that it hadn't hurt the baby. For a minute she waited, searching herself for anything that would signal a miscarriage. When she didn't find any she allowed herself a sigh of relief.

As soon as she saw that the baby was alright she turned her attention to the world outside her car. Somehow the sky had turned a deeper red. Moira looked around, noticing that other cars had been knocked off the road. Several people had gotten out of their vehicles. A few were pointing at the sky ad she could see that others were starting to run.

As an analyst Moira wasn't one to reject definitive evidence of a disaster. When people ran, screamed, and pointed, that meant something bad was on the horizon. Once she'd accepted that it was just a matter of having a plan. Her moves were instinctive and she saw a checklist form in her mind. She needed to get out of the car. She needed to stay hidden. She needed to get home. She needed to know her children were safe.

Moira yanked off her seatbelt and wrenched her car door open. Stumbling out of the vehicle she started in the direction of her house. She was only a few minutes away by road, but she knew it would take longer to get there by foot, especially in her present condition. No matter. She had to get there.

The ground shook beneath her. Moira used the cars that had managed to stay on the road as cover, although their owners had abandoned them, to get to the other side. She had to stay off the road and avoid obvious paths. She figured she could do this cutting across the field. The grass was high and it would provide some cover.

Panting Moira reached the grasses, her feet already burning and her lungs protesting. Her nausea from her pregnancy threatened to overtake her and sweat dripped from her brow. She was fit for a pregnant woman, but women who were near the end of their term weren't meant for long-term exertion.

Still, she knew what she was doing. There'd been survival courses in the CIA she'd had to take, as well as a few others when she took over Genoshan intelligence. As long as she kept on her feet she'd be fine. Stumbling into the tall grass Moira risked a glance behind her, just to see what it was she was running from.

Her knees felt weak and Moira swallowed a gasp, putting her hands over her mouth. She wanted to run as far and as fast as she could, but her feet felt glued to the ground. Her eyes stayed riveted ahead of her, the sight shaking her to her core because things like that weren't possible, and they weren't to be found on Genosha.

High above her a giant made of iron loomed, its eyes searchlights that tore across the waning light. She saw that it was painted with a deep purple and gold. Her mind went to the MRD crests that she'd seen on reports, the same crest that decorated the uniforms of men who wrenched children from their homes.

Another one landed next to the first one, cracking the road beneath it. The resulting tremor knocked her to the ground. Her hands went to her stomach, but she knew that her soft fall wasn't enough to hurt the child. She saw several more in the skies, leaving trails of fire and rockets behind them.

"Jesus."

The word left her lips and Moira was unsure whether it was a prayer or a curse. Her hand clenched into a fist and she got to her feet. With a great strain of her will she snapped her eyes forward and continued moving, trying to burn what she'd seen out of her mind. The ground shook again but Moira didn't fall; just kept moving.

The grass whipped at her face and she thought about her home. She'd have to get Rahne and David out of there. It wasn't safe for them. Moira didn't know where she'd go when iron giants were falling from the sky, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that where they were wasn't safe.

She continued to stumble through the grass, blindly putting one foot in front of another. Moira couldn't see anything except the path in front of her, couldn't even tell if she was going in the right direction. She'd have to find a high place and check soon; she couldn't just keep running without knowing where she was going.

A hillock rose in front of her, her feet squelching in the mud. It took a second for Moira to recognize it. It overlooked the lake near their housing development. She'd had picnics there with her family during the spring. Moira stumbled over her feet to get to the top of it, knowing that she'd be able to see her neighborhood in the distance.

As soon as she reached the top her heart stopped. The housing development was on fire, one of the iron giants storming through it and crushing houses. Moira felt a scream reach her throat and she hurried on, ignoring the fact that she was choking on the air and sweat and tears were blinding her.

She reached the housing development just as the giant knocked down a house a few blocks down. There was a splintering sound and she heard screams. More ash filled the air and Moira looked around, trying to figure out where she was. Everything familiar to her was distorted by the flames and made sinister.

Moira turned around just in time to see someone in a green uniform with a rifle staring at her from a doorway. Her eyes went to his shoulder where she saw the MRD crest, a crest that haunted her nightmares ever since she'd found out about their existence. She managed to cough once and take a step back before something hit her head and everything went black.


	47. Chapter 47

The floor shook and dust fell from the ceiling. The chandelier that hung above them quivered, its glass making a bell-like noise. Charles looked up, putting his papers down. Across from him Erik got up, a frown creasing his features. Together they walked to the window. Charles saw buildings shake and quiver against the backdrop of the blood red sunset.

He began to form a question just as a red beam of light streak in front of them, setting the opposite tower on fire and rattling the ground. Charles lost his balance, managing to keep from falling by grabbing onto the window sill. Erik did the same as the chandelier came loose from its fixture and fell, shattering on the table.

Charles looked over at Erik and noticed the shocked expression on his face. Together they looked out the window as an iron giant fired at the tower again with another beam of red light. This time they were ready for the rattling and quaking of the earth, grabbing the windowsill just in time.

Erik gazed out the window for a minute before the look in his eyes faded from shock to complete panic.

"Susanna and Lorna," he said.

Without another word Erik scrambled to his feet, hurrying out into the hallway. Charles took after him, putting his fingers to his temples. He let out a mental call to any X-men or soldiers in the palace to congregate in the receiving hall. He also sought out the minds of the phone operators and told them to put out a call to the Hellions to mobilize them and any other members of the Genoshan armed forces.

Ahead of him Erik ran around the corner. Charles continued to run after him, the ground shaking beneath them. He streaked past Arthur, who he saw was heading to the lobby. He looked at the two of them, his eyes wide. Charles could see the unspoken question on his face as he looked between him and Erik's rapidly retreating figure.

He sent out a mental call to Erik, who continued his journey without even looking behind him.

_Erik, they need someone to-_

_Charles, I __**need**__ to see them_, Erik thought, his thoughts sharp, _Take care of it. I'll be down once I know._

Charles nodded and headed down with Arthur. He saw several of the X-men milling about with the rest of the soldiers, but he couldn't find Neena. As Susanna and Lorna's head bodyguard he could only hope that she was currently with them. Another, darker thought told him that she'd wish she was dead if she was anywhere else when Erik found her.

Another tremor shook the palace. Charles walked to the top of the stairs and put his fingers to his temples, asking for quiet. As one the assembly turned to look at him. Several already looked as though they were itching to fight. He saw that Emma had her hands on her hips and Azazel had his swords out. Even Clarice, who'd traded her days as a soldier in for a political career, stood with them.

"Everyone," he said, "We need to mobilize. You know the teams. We don't know what's attacking the palace, but I had a visual on it. It seems to be some sort of giant robot, but I can't be sure until we get a closer look."

He pointed to Azazel.

"Azazel, I want you and Emma to get that closer look," he said, "Tell me if it's automated or if someone's controlling it from the inside. If it's got a mind, you know what to do Emma."

She nodded, smirking.

"Report back on weak points and carry Arthur, Samuel, and Sarah in once you've got a good look at the area," Charles said, "I want you to tell us how many there are and if they've got a formation going, alright?"

Azazel nodded. He grabbed Emma's arm and the two of them vanished in a puff of black smoke. Charles turned to the others.

"Clarice," Charles said, "Get down to the communication points. See if we have any other reports and then teleport back."

She nodded, a pink crystal forming in her hand. A flash of light later she was gone. With the teleporters deployed Charles turned to the remaining soldiers. The room trembled again and Charles shook his head. He needed to keep it together. Already he could see some of the younger fighters start to panic.

"Everyone!" he called out, "I need you to keep it together and assemble defenses! We need to stand united."

"Where's the King?" someone called.

"He's with the Queen and Princess," Charles said, his voice made cool by the situation, "Beginning to evacuate them from the palace. Do you have a better idea of what to do with a civilian and a child?"

He could tell that he'd silenced them on the matter, although several were still looking worried. He could only hope that Erik would come and join them soon. Erik's presence would do a great deal to increase morale and bolster confidence. Charles was woefully aware of his power's uselessness in the field if the giants attacking the palace turned out to be fully automated.

Azazel teleported back. Charles caught Emma's eyes and she shook her head.

"They're automated," she said, her voice angry.

"But they still need eyes," Azazel said, "We aim for head. There are three out there that I can see, but sounds like two others coming."

"I understand," Charles said.

He shook his head.

"Alright," he said, "take Dominikos as well as the alpha team. If you need more then come back for them."

The named X-men grouped around Azazel. Several disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Those that were left disappeared several seconds later. Azazel couldn't take too many people with him, but the swiftness with which he teleported more than made up for it. He could do several different teleportations, something he knew would come in handy that night.

Just as the last group disappeared Clarice returned. Her face was pale and the hand holding her crystal was trembling. Her mouth opened once before closing. Charles felt his stomach sinking even before she spoke.

"I got information from the operators," she said, "It's…it's not just the palace. These things are all over Genosha."

There was a murmur from the assembled crowd as they took in the news. Charles had to raise his voice to be heard.

"Everywhere?" he asked.

Clarice nodded.

"Everywhere," she said, "They're even attacking neighborhoods, apartment complexes, the downtown area…"

His mind immediately went to the neighborhood where he lived. Rahne, David, and Moira would be there now. His breathing quickened. At that moment he knew that the same wildness that he'd heard in Erik's thoughts possessed him. The Lensherr family wasn't the only one in danger anymore.

* * *

Erik tore through the halls, doors flying out and hitting the walls around him. Outside the light of red lasers cut through the now darkened sky. He could feel the building shake beneath his feet and heard Charles' mental commands, although he took a vague note in the back of his head that his friend sounded weak.

However, he couldn't think about that at the time. He stared straight ahead, his heart thudding. His wife and daughter were in a building that was shaking and under attack by something he didn't yet understand. They were inside somewhere and he needed to see that they were safe.

He turned around the corner and nearly ran into Neena. Her guns were out and she was breathing hard. When she saw it was him she jerked her head backwards and stepped to the side. Behind her he saw Susanna in her nightdress, her robe thrown over herself hastily. She always enjoyed getting out of her restrictive, decorated clothing as soon as possible. Lorna was similarly attired because of the nearness to her bedtime, clutching her mother's hand.

Erik barely even thought. He rushed forward and gathered them in his arms. They were safe, they were there. Susanna's arms were around his back and he could feel Lorna's around his waist. He swallowed hard, trying to take in the fact that they were alright and not collapse. For a moment there was no room for any other thoughts in his head.

Finally he pulled away, his hand around Susanna's face.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, "You're not hurt?"

Susanna shook her head.

"Neither of us are," she said, "But Erik, what's going on? We heard shouting and the palace it's-"

She was cut off as another, stronger tremor shook the building. He heard Lorna whimper and Erik reached down to squeeze her hand. She pulled close to him and the weight of his family in his arms served to clear his head. Grasping his daughter's hand with his left hand and his wife's with his right they he pulled them down the hallway.

Neena trailed behind him, her guns still out and her eyes searching. She didn't know that the threat they faced was far bigger than something she could take out with her guns. At the same time he was grateful for her dedication. She'd protected his family to the best of her ability, even if the threat wasn't immediate.

He hurried them into the lobby where the X-men and other soldiers had congregated. Several were being teleported out in groups, and he saw that a makeshift operator station had been set up. Charles was standing next to the stand, a wild, hunted look in his eyes as he snapped out orders.

His friend looked over his shoulder at him and Erik recognized the look. Erik squeezed Susanna's shoulder and released Lorna's hand before striding over.

"Charles, what's the situation?"

Charles took a deep breath, his hands digging into the woodwork of the desk.

"I've got the X-men handling the situation at the palace," Charles said, "Although it appears that there are more of these things on the way."

He gestured to the operator's switchboard which was equipped with a radar. Erik could see several dots moving in closer.

"I've mobilized the armed forces," Charles said, "The Hellions are coming into the city proper to try and make a perimeter. Several of their number are missing since they'd gone home for the night."

"The city proper?" asked Erik.

Charles took another deep breath, his whole body shuddering.

"It appears that these things are attacking the whole of Genosha, but concentrating on the capitol," he said, "I've sent out the call to the militias in other cities. These things aren't being discerning. They're going for residential districts as well as commercial and military ones."

The magnitude of the disaster hit him. This wasn't some assassination attempt on the country's leaders or his family. This was all-out warfare. Anger and instincts he hadn't felt within years flared within him, bolstered by the fact that his wife and daughter stood not a few feet behind him.

The thought sparked something else inside him. The residential districts were being attacked. Suddenly Charles' look and tone made sense. Erik put an arm around Charles' shoulder, steering him away from the crowds. When they were a sufficient distance away he tapped his temple with his finger. Charles nodded, understanding the gesture.

_How's the hospital? _he thought

_It's untouched, _Charles thought, _These things haven't reached that part of the city. That means Raven should be fine. _

_And the residential districts? _pressed Erik, _You said they were being attacked. _

_All of them, _Charles thought, _Even…oh God…_

Erik thought back to the time. It was summer, so Rahne would be home along with David. Moira would've just been coming back from work.

_Charles, I'm sure they're fine_, he thought,_ Moira knows what she's doing. She'll have gotten herself and the children out in time. _

Charles shook his head and Erik saw panic mounting there.

_Erik, Azazel says these things are highly destructive, _Charles thought,_ The last I saw they seem to travel in groups. Erik, if something-_

_Now's not the time. _

_You're a fine one to talk, _Charles snarled in his mind, _The moment you saw them you ran for your wife and daughter. Well my family isn't here! My wife and children were in a part of Genosha that's now burning! Of course now's the time!_

Erik blinked, taken back by the viciousness of his friend's thoughts. Charles took a shuddering breath and shook his head.

_I'm sorry,_ Charles thought,_ But I can't get to them Erik. I can't be sure…_

He nodded, understanding his friend's pain.

_Right now we need to save Genosha, _Erik thought, _And that includes your family. The sooner we destroy these things the sooner we know._

Charles nodded, the hunted look still in his eyes. Erik swallowed.

"We need to establish safe zones for civilians to flee to," he said, "Recognizable ones that can be easily defended. After we've figured that out we need to send out some sort of radio signal so that they'll know to flee there."

Charles nodded again, his lips moving soundlessly for a moment. He closed his eyes as though calming himself down.

"We should use the hospital, the opera house, and the school," Charles said, "They're prime locations and the troops are close to them. There are also smaller shelters we built in case of attack."

"Alright," Erik said, "Let's get on it."


	48. Chapter 48

A few hours ago Calvin had been having lunch with Clarice. Now that all the strife over the Restriction law was gone life was much calmer. His newest mission had left him with a lot to think about, and the data that they'd received was confusing. Nonetheless the day had been simple and held the promise of being just like any other day.

Now fire crackled through the buildings, crushing them and loosening the masonry. The streets were filled with the rumbling of the giants, stretching high into the sky and shooting red lights out of their palms. Calvin looked up at them, wondering when he'd descended from the land of the living into hell.

"Sunfire!" he yelled.

"I'm on it!" she shouted.

Leaping into the sky Sunfire's flames surrounded her. She flew in a circle around the giant's head, gradually melting the metal from the heat. At its foot Colossus was pounding into it, crushing the metal and causing it balance issues. Thunderbird was doing the same with the other foot, making it wobble.

It took three Hellions to hurt one of the giants. Calvin looked past the immediate area and saw rows of the giants approaching, crushing the streets beneath their feet. He looked back at his depleted forces. Several Hellions were still missing, including his second in command, Morph. He wondered where they were, but if they weren't there doing their duty then they were likely in no position to be helping them. He tried not to think about what would cause that.

They weren't just fighting the giants though. There were soldiers too, even if the giants were the biggest threat. He'd already ripped through a few himself, smashing some with his metal fists and shooting others. He didn't like the implication of why the MRD would be sending iron giants and soldiers to fight Genosha. Calvin didn't like any of it, but that particular development was worrying.

Calvin turned his attention to the matter on hand, cursing their unpreparedness. This shouldn't have happened. They'd been trained for the scenario that Genosha was attacked. Genoshan leaders had taken the prospect of an attack seriously, especially in the early days. Shelters had been built with that express purpose in mind.

Things were supposed to go in a certain order, even allowing for some deviation. Nothing ever really went exactly according to plan after all. The way it was supposed to go was that their early warning systems would them that these things were coming. They would've met the invading forces at the waterfront with the civilians safely evacuated to zones that would be established on the day for security purposes.

None of that was happening. There had been very little word from headquarters besides that they should congregate and fight the invaders. So far that's all they had been doing, and they'd been making very little headway. Nothing else was recognizable. Where were the warnings? Where were the safe zones? Where was the original plan? What had gone wrong?

His radio crackled with static. Calvin tapped his ear, trying to adjust it so he could hear the orders from headquarters. The Hellions base was untouched, being so far outside of the city limits. It was in the middle of nowhere and that was saving it from the brunt of the attack, though they'd had to leave a few Hellions there to protect it. So far it showed as a beacon of communication in a crazy time.

"This is Mimic. Over," he said.

"Corsair. Over."

Christopher. It surprised him that his commander was giving him the orders directly, but he knew that the operators would be far too busy.

"Orders are now to establish a perimeter around the following sites," Christopher said, "the hospital, the opera house, and the Institute for Higher Learning. Evacuate civilians there and direct the flow of traffic. Over."

"Roger. Over," Calvin said.

He looked back at the Hellions. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. The safe zones were in place. Things were starting to look more familiar and for the first time since he saw the giants he started to feel a flicker of confidence. The situation was still grim, but there was some semblance of control in it now.

From across the street he saw a stream of civilians that soldiers were trying to cut off. He ran over to them immediately, sending a blinding flash of light at them. The soldiers fell to the ground, clutching their eyes. The civilians stared at him, probably taking in his Hellion uniform. It took a minute for him to realize that they were looking to him for instructions.

"The opera house is ten minutes that way!" he yelled, pointing in the correct direction, "It's a safe zone!"

The civilians nodded and hurried on. Calvin took the time lapse to relay the order over the radios, as well as which Hellions should go to which site. His own was the hospital, but many were assigned to hold the fort at the opera house. Immediately the Hellions pulled back. Sunfire stayed, still circling around the giant's head. He growled in frustration, knowing how much time it would take for her to reach the appropriate heat level to melt metal.

From his side another group of soldiers entered the plaza. Calvin turned his skin to metal, managing to avoid the barrage of bullets. He was about to charge them when another figure rushed forwards, tearing into the soldiers. Calvin watched mutely as limbs and blood flew thick in the air.

When the figure was done it turned back to Calvin, nodding his head.

"Rankin," he said.

After a minute Calvin found his voice.

"Logan," he said, "What are you-?"

He jerked his head to the side. From behind a wall a woman with gray eyes and dark hair appeared, carrying a toddler swathed in a blanket. The woman's hand clasped the child's arm and, strangely enough, the child wasn't crying. Calvin couldn't imagine a child not crying in their current situation, but the woman looked like she was concentrating. Perhaps it was her mutaton.

He looked back at Logan, who was gazing at the woman and child with a fierce expression. Calvin suddenly understood.

"There're safe zones pretty close by," Rankin said, "Closest is the opera house."

"Thanks bub," Logan said.

He grabbed the woman's arm and took off in the direction of the opera house. High above him Sunfire finally succeeding in melting the giant's head. It fell to the ground, rolling a few feet in front of Calvin. The rest of the body collapsed in on itself, useful knowledge since they were fighting in such tight environments.

Before taking off to the hospital to help establish the safe zone, he took a last look at the severed head. It crackled with electricity, the metal slowly melting. Just before the metal slid off he made out the word 'SENTINEL' etched into its side. He'd have to relay the information. Their enemy had a name now.

* * *

Moira woke up feeling dizzy. Her head and back ached. She blinked a few times, trying to orientate herself and remember what it was that had happened. For a while all she could remember was running through a world on fire with the world shaking beneath her feet, screaming her fears.

It all rushed back to her. The image of her burning neighborhood slammed into her head and she had to bite back a sob. Tears gathered in her eyes and she bit her lip. Rahne and David had been there. Where were they now? Had they gotten out? Were they alright? There was no way of knowing.

Forcing herself to concentrate she pushed herself into a sitting position. The room around her was dark, although her eyes were slowly adjusting to it. Moira forced herself to open her eyes wider. She wasn't sure if there was anyone in the room with her, but she'd have to leave a further exploration to when her eyes adjusted to her surroundings.

She tilted her head back, trying to think. As she did so her neck let out a screaming protest. She went to massage it, only to find a collar there. Frowning Moira traced it with her fingertips, feeling ridges and wires. After a few minutes her questing fingers found where it locked in. Her fingernails began to scrabble at it, trying to get it off.

"No use doing that," a male voice said, "I've already tried a dozen times. All it does is chip your fingernails."

Moira looked in the direction of the voice, pulling her knees up below her chin in a defensive position. Her movements made a noise and the voice chuckled.

"Don't worry ma'am," he said, "I'm Genoshan. Caught me when I was loooking to see what all the commotion was. Dumb way to go, but it figures."

She swallowed. She wasn't sure if she could trust whoever it was in front of her, but she needed to know where she was.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Don't know myself ma'am," the voice said, "Just keep your voice low though. Don't want anyone hearing us."

Moira nodded before she realized that he probably couldn't see her. However, the voice just continued to talk.

"All I know is that it's MRD," he said, "They put this collar on me when I got in here. Killed my powers. Put one on you too, just to be safe. I think they figure they'll sort out the humans from the mutants after all this is over ma'am."

"An MRD attack then," Moira said.

Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. She could just make out a hunched, withered figure across from her.

"And they're taking prisoners," Moira said.

"Yeah, and we both know what that means when the MRD does that," the voice said darkly, "Bad news ma'am."

She frowned.

"Why do you keep calling me ma'am?"

There was a pause before the voice continued.

"Um, would it freak you out if I moved closer?"

For a second the question alarmed her, until she realized the reason. Whoever it was was in her cell with her was afraid that someone was listening to their conversation. It was why he'd kept his voice low. Now he didn't want there to be the slightest possibility that they could be overheard. Moira began to shake her head, catching herself just in time to stop the useless gesture.

"No."

There was some shuffling noises, noises that didn't stop until she felt someone bump into her. The other person immediately drew back.

"Sorry ma'am," he said.

"It's no problem," Moira said, "It's dark."

The man next to her chuckled and leaned in. His voice became even lower.

"Yeah, it is Mrs. Xavier."

Her heart skipped a beat and she swallowed. The man continued.

"I saw your face when they put you in here," he said, "It's light outside of here ma'am."

He paused and Moira took another breath.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, "But I know who you are ma'am. They don't. I don't think many people would recognize you under all that grime. But I walk by your picture a lot at my workplace, along with Christopher Summers', your husband, and the King. I could probably draw a picture by now ma'am. Not to mention I've heard you speak. I'm good with voices."

Moira swallowed, her fear assuaged. She leaned in further.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Hellion ma'am," he whispered back, "Like I said, it's embarrassing how I was captured. It's not like I was expecting this though. Still, I managed to shift to a pretty harmless form. I look like a little old man and made sure to sound like I lost my wits when they were collaring me. Apparently I stay in the same form when my powers shut down. Fancy that."

Moira looked around, suddenly realizing the implications of their situation.

"A pregnant woman and an old man who babbles," Moira said, "They think we're both helpless and harmless."

The possibilities were endless.

"Looks like," the man said, "I've been listening through the walls. They check on the prisoners every now and then. You were unconscious when they brought you in and the light was really bright, but I think there were only two ma'am."

"Oh?" asked Moira, "Then you're thinking what I'm thinking."

She could practically hear his grin.

"Break-out," he said.

"They won't expect it," Moira said, "We're going to need to figure out where the door is and listen close for when they come in."

"Yeah, but put me directly in the line of fire," he said, "I'm not really frail and old, but unless I'm mistaken you're really pregnant."

Under any other circumstances Moira would argue. However, it was the life of her child they were talking about.

"Yes," she said.

Another thought occurred to her, one she realized should've come much sooner.

"What's your name?"

The outline of the man shrugged.

"Morph's as good as any ma'am."


	49. Chapter 49

"Alex?"

Alex looked over at his brother. His eyes were big and he had his knees drawn up to his chin.

"Yeah?" asked Alex.

Scott bit his lip.

"I'm scared," he said.

Alex swallowed. He was scared too. The fires had begun to spread into their neighborhood over an hour ago, just as they were leaving. Their father had called their mother, telling her to take them to the Hellion base. Alex had never seen his mother so panicky, her fingers trembling as she turned on the ignition and drove them out. He'd also never seen her step on the gas so hard.

They'd been let in and their father had hurried to greet them. The Hellion base was mercifully free of the fire and smoke of their neighborhood, but it was much more hectic inside. People were running back and forth, connecting communication lines. Alex had yet to see any of the Hellions, although he'd been told that a few were outside, guarding the base. The bulk of them had been sent into the capitol, which apparently was being hit up the hardest.

Their father had put them in a side office which was mercifully empty. His mother, who'd been a telephone operator during World War II, had taken up a station to assist them. They'd been given strict instructions not to leave the office. Their parents had wanted to make sure that they were well out of the way.

However, most of the office's dividing wall was made of glass. They could still see the commotion and the panic. Alex could still see his father barking out orders and his mother desperately connecting different stations. Sounds still filtered in through the glass and he could hear the relayed information.

"They're called Sentinels!"

"What good does that do us?"

"Some sort of new design-"

Alex fought the urge to shut his eyes and turn away from the glass. He was fourteen now and fourteen year olds didn't get scared like this.

"Don't be a baby Scott," he said, "They've got it under control."

Scott's eyes filled with tears and he looked down. Alex sighed and sat closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't cry," Alex said.

"I'm not crying," Scott said.

"Yeah, you are," Alex said.

Scott sniffled and pulled his jacket across his face, smearing it with tears and snot.

"Are you sure it's gonna be okay?" asked Scott.

Alex put an arm around his brother, guiding him away from the glass pane. Maybe he could stand all of that, but his brother couldn't. He was only seven.

"Remember when those guys came to our house?" he asked.

Scott nodded, wide-eyed.

"They broke down the door and I told you to hide in the basement, right?" asked Alex.

"I heard noises but I didn't move," Scott said.

"Right, 'cause I told you not to," Alex said, "And you did a great job. Kept yourself safe and you told mom and dad what happened."

He paused, not sure what to say next. Being dragged from his home still gave him nightmares, as did the aftermath. If he looked hard enough he could still see the needle marks on his skin. He tried not to think too much about what had happened, but he needed to say something to give his brother confidence.

"When they took me," Alex said, "I thought I was never going to see any of you again. Not mom, not dad, not you. That's what I thought."

Scott looked up at him, his eyes dripping.

"But I did," Alex said, "Dad came and got me. Things looked bad, but it turned out okay."

Alex wiped his brother's eyes.

"And even though things look bad right now," Alex said, "it's going to be okay."

Scott nodded. Alex held his brother tightly and looked out the panel of glass at the chaos outside. His own fear churned in his gut and he swallowed.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated.

* * *

Doug looked up at Heather and dug his fingernails into the wood of his chair. She'd knelt down in front of him and her hands were on his shoulders. Outside he could hear gurneys being moved as injured civilians were brought in. Heather had tried to shield his eyes from their injuries, but he'd seen anyway. It didn't really matter. He'd seen much worse in MRD custody.

Other people were being put into the lobby and waiting rooms, holding them there until it was safe for them to go outside. From the noises he heard he didn't think it was going to be anytime soon.

"Alright Doug, I want you to listen," Heather said, "I need you to stay here in the hospital where it's safe. If they tell you to evacuate then evacuate. When all this is over I'll come and get you. Okay?"

Behind Heather Azazel stood, his tail swishing. He looked impatient, although not angry. Doug knew he was there to take Heather away.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She smiled, although the expression looked strained.

"I'm a doctor," she said, "I have to go out there and see if anyone needs help. But I'll be back. I have to. Doctors belong in hospitals."

Doug didn't laugh at the joke.

"Is this everywhere?" he asked.

Heather nodded. He looked down, struggling over his question.

"Do you think Rahne's okay?" he managed.

He'd seen Carly in the lobby earlier being held by her parents. He hadn't had time to say hello though. Heather had taken him aside too quickly. It had let him know that one of his friends from school was alright. He still didn't know about Rahne.

"I'm sure she's fine," Heather said.

Doug wasn't so sure. He'd seen the flames and one of the giants people were calling Sentinels in the distance. He knew that things were going wrong outside and he didn't want Heather to go out there. At the same time he knew that he wasn't going to be able to stop her. She was an adult and he was a child. Children didn't stop adults.

Nonetheless, he had to say something. He had to try and stop her from going out where it was dangerous.

"I don't want you to go," he said.

Heather gave another strained smile. She leaned forwards and kissed him on the forehead, her hand moving to his cheek.

"It's going to be okay," Heather said.

* * *

Smoke billowed into the sky as giant after giant stormed through the neighborhood, the sound of grating metal overpowering. Screams filled the air and the giants shot lasers from their palms, spreading the fire and crushing buildings beneath their feet. Night had fallen on Genosha, but the fire was making it as bright as day, the sky the color of ash.

From a hill in the woods Rahne watched the destruction, clutching David tightly. Rahne had smelt the smoke long before she saw the fire. Her feral senses weren't something she could ever fully switch off, no matter how much she wished she could. Walking into crowds could be overwhelming at times, hearing, seeing, and smelling all too much. However, those senses were the reason she'd lived long enough to find Moira.

It was why she trusted them, listened to them when they told her danger was on the horizon. She'd read somewhere that animals were always the first to clear out when there was a natural disaster. They could feel it in their bones, some survival instinct that they'd been blessed with that humans had forgotten with the security of homes, cars, and guns. Rahne's had never left her.

So when she felt her hackles rise while playing with David, she'd sat up and taken notice. Something, somewhere was wrong. Rahne had put David down and walked over to the nursery's window, opening it. Everything seemed normal; just like another day in the quiet neighborhood her family lived in. A car drove by and she could tell that the ice cream truck had just left.

Her hackles were still standing on end though. Rahne frowned, unwilling to dismiss her gut instinct after it had kept her alive so long. Determined to come to the root of the problem she'd taken a long sniff of the air. At first it too was normal. Then she'd smelt the acrid burning of smoke, rich and oily.

Being mostly human Rahne had wondered if the stove was on and she'd forgotten about it. A few seconds later she'd remembered that, no, she wasn't supposed to turn the stove on. She'd never been near the thing. She rarely went downstairs at all when it was just her and David in the house.

She'd taken another whiff of the air. The smoke smell was getting stronger now but she still couldn't place it. Her senses were telling her that she needed to leave, but leaving seemed ridiculous. Where would she go? There was no place safer than her house, at least nowhere that she knew of. Her mother would be coming home soon, and she'd know what to do.

Then the ground had started to tremble, stuffed toys falling from shelves. Something inside of her screamed out, much too loud for her to ignore. It was the same thing that had told her to run from her birth father's house, to take her chances with the unknown rather than stay inside. A disaster was coming, and the animal inside of her wanted to leave before it arrived.

Rahne looked over at David, who'd begun sucking on his hands. She swallowed hard before grabbing the baby bag her mother kept on the changing table. It had bottles and things for David in them, things that she knew she'd need. She also tossed a blanket inside, more out of panic than any forethought.

She'd picked up David, hefting him in her arms. Rahne had been told time and again not to leave the house when her parents weren't home. They'd never said what to do when she felt in her very marrow that something was coming, something she wouldn't want to see. The smell of smoke was coming to where it would be faint to normal human nostrils, but to Rahne it was like being inside a fire.

She'd hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Rahne had wanted to turn into her wolf form and gallop, it was faster after all, but she'd had to carry David. This wasn't a simple matter of her running away anymore. This was running from danger, and that meant that the things she carried were more precious than a bag full of meager rations and her ratty blanket.

As she ran she'd passed the phone. It was something else she wasn't supposed to use, but she figured that circumstances would allow it. She had wanted to warn her parents and her aunt, tell them that something was coming. Their numbers were in the drawer in the kitchen, there for emergencies.

Her senses were screaming at her though and she didn't even slow her pace. Something else was overpowering her thoughts, telling her that if she spent precious minutes trying to contact them then she'd be dead. Swallowing her frustrations she clutched David closer to her, trying to at least dampen what her senses were telling her and slow herself down. It hadn't worked.

Rahne had reached the back door and opened it. She hurried outside of it, going through their back fence as well. Her feet shifted under her into her wolf ones, barely requiring a thought. The feral part of her was telling her to get out of a situation, and it had been good enough to guide her away as well.

They'd gotten a block away when a laser had cut through the air and set their house on fire. The force from the resulting explosion had nearly knocked her off her feet. David started screaming, his hands flailing around. Rahne turned around, staring at the flames. Another laser crashed into a building across the street, adding more fire and rubble to their peaceful neighborhood.

Rahne had choked on the smell of the smoke. She knew that it would have been bad for anyone, but with her senses it was like hell. Nonetheless she stumbled on, knowing that she had to get out of there. There was no time for her to be afraid or to wallow in the pain her own senses were causing her. She was carrying her brother, part of the family God had gifted her, and she couldn't let him fall.

When she got to the hill in front of the woods she allowed herself to rest, but not sit down. She knew that she'd just curl into a ball if she did that. David was still crying but Rahne had long ago given up on trying to comfort him. Tears leaked down her soot-stained face and she swallowed, feeling choked and scared.

Her knees were shaking with the effort of staying still. Her instincts were still telling her to run, but her human mind demanded to know where. All the other places that she'd walked to were going up in flames. Beyond that she knew of very few places, and most of them were in the city. She wouldn't be able to make it there by herself even if she knew the way. Not without abandoning David, and she would never do that.

She closed her eyes, kissing David's forehead and crying. She didn't know what to do. Rahne wanted her parents, wanted them to tell her that everything was going to be okay. She wanted to go home, but that home had gone up in flames and her parents were missing. It was just her and David.

Swallowing she thought of the Institute. It was a longshot; she wasn't sure if she could find it by herself. However, it was relatively nearby and she couldn't stay where she was. Soldiers were starting to pour into the neighborhood, and from the screams she knew they weren't friendly.

Sniffling Rahne turned around and started to walk into the woods. After a minute or two her feet shifted and she began running, the branches whipping at her face. Once more she was running into the night from danger, only this time she was carrying her brother, unsure if she'd be able to protect him. It made an already hellish situation even worse.

She forced herself to look down at her brother, whose brown eyes stared into hers as he cried. She tried to rock him as she ran.

"It's going to be okay," she said.


	50. Chapter 50

Azazel teleported into the square, depositing Heather on the cusp of the fight. It always took her a minute to get oriented from the teleportation process. For all its useful purposes teleportation had its side-effects, especially to the passengers. She coughed a few times, forcing the sulfur out of her lungs.

When she was done she took stock of her surroundings. No one was injured enough to stop fighting. Sunfire was in the sky, burning away at the metal that encased the Sentinels. Colossus was pounding away as usual, and several black clouds of smoke alerted her that Azazel was still flitting about.

Taking a deep breath she threw her head back and concentrated. Fur began to grow on her arms which ripped at her skin. Her limbs thickened, new layers of muscle bursting forth. Her legs broke and reformed, claws where her toes were and her teeth replaced by fangs. More claws grew from her hands, now resembling paws more than a full five digits.

Transforming was painful, the main reason why Heather did it so little. She'd disliked the form that she could take, not because of the implications of being a mutant, but because of the pain and how ill-suited her mentality was to fighting. She was lucky enough to be able to keep her mind when she did so, but she'd always been more of a healer than a fighter. It's what she'd wanted to be ever since she was a child.

By all accounts she shouldn't be on the field. She should have been in the hospital, helping out with the wounded. Doctors were in short supply on Genosha. In her first months on the island she'd found herself helping with surgery as well as assisting with births while her specialty had been traumatic wounds. However, at the moment they needed Hellions more than they needed doctors.

A soldier came from a nearby alley. Her arm lashed out, ripping his throat out. Blood stained her white fur. Her nostrils flared at the smell, but she wasn't a full feral. What few feral abilities she had Logan had helped her subdue to the point where they were useful instead of a burden. The sight of blood that she'd spilt always did spark something though, and there was nothing she could do about that.

She hurried forwards, dodging the blasts from the Sentinels and guiding herself through the rubble. Since no one was wounded Heather was there strictly as a fighter, not the chief medical officer. That would change later, but for the moment she had to focus on fighting. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Mimic was fighting on the edge of the field and she leapt to his side, ripping apart a soldier near him.

"Nice to see you Sasquatch," he said.

"Wish I could say the same sir," she answered, her arm flinging into a soldier, "Quite the situation we've got on our hands."

His metal fist slammed into a soldier before tossing another one into a wall. She heard the sickening crack where she was, noting that his occipital lobe was broken. He wouldn't be getting back up again.

"How's the situation?" she asked.

Mimic smashed into another wave of soldiers. Heather moved to the side, taking down any that avoided his initial attack.

"We've moved the civilians into safe zones," he said, "and we're moving out from there. Right now we're abandoning the asteroid, focusing on the established zones and trying to figure out where these things are coming from."

Heather blinked before slamming into another soldier. Her mind raced around her. The asteroid was the codename for the palace, and its occupants were, in the very least, the royal family. She had known that things were bad, but she didn't know that the government, if it was all in one place, would be moving.

Then again, that was probably for the best. If they had all of their government's leaders in one place then it would be easy to take down. Provided communication held up, the more spread out everyone was the better. It was good to know that the plan was in place and, despite all the horrors around them, things were proceeding. It was a comforting thought.

"Is Doug alright?" Mimic asked, his voice low.

Heather nodded. Although none of the Hellions knew each other's' names, all of them knew that she'd become Doug's official guardian. The Hellions had been invested in the boy's well-being from the very beginning. If they'd been allowed to become more acquainted outside of the base then they'd have been the first people she'd have turned to for babysitters.

"Good," he said, "He doesn't need to see this mess."

A soldier shot at Mimic, the bullets ricocheting off his metal skin. Heather leapt forwards, tearing the man's arms off. Her medical knowledge gave her the perfect guidelines for stopping any man, no matter who they were. She tossed him into a group of oncoming soldiers, his blood spraying in her face.

"No," Heather said, "He doesn't."

* * *

Susanna took a deep breath as Erik took her aside. Her hand was laced with his and her breathing labored. She gave a last look at Lorna who was biting her lip and standing close to Neena. Lorna didn't like being seperated from her parents, and it showed.

Susanna's throat felt clogged. She'd known that this was coming. She'd been over it with Erik time and time again in case anything bad ever happened. In the years he'd been on Genosha she'd been lulled into the belief that it wouldn't, but now that it had she had trouble keeping back her tears.

"You know what to do, don't you?" Erik asked, his hand cupping her face.

She nodded, trying to keep calm.

"They'll take you to the safe zones," he said, "Only the guards and Charles and I know which ones you're going to. It'll be safe."

Susanna nodded again. The building shook as the Sentinels closed in. The palace was a big target, and more Sentinels poured in by the minute. All around them the operators were putting up their equipment, ready to be teleported out in groups by Clarice. From there they would start an arduous journey since her range wasn't perfect and Azazel was needed on the battlefield.

She didn't know where they were going, but she was fairly sure it wasn't where she was.

"And, Susanna…" Erik said.

He looked around him and then focused on her.

"If the worst happens-" he began.

"It won't," Susanna said firmly.

He gave her a quick smile before his face became serious again.

"It might," he said, "Right now we're in the middle of a war and we have to prepare ourselves if things go wrong."

"They won't," Susanna said, "You've beaten the odds before."

His second hand came up to join the first. Susanna grasped his wrists, trying to keep the tears in. She could see the torn expression on his face and he sighed.

"Take care of Lorna," he said, "And keep yourself safe. That's what I want. It's what I've always wanted."

The tears she'd tried to keep back came to the surface and she swallowed again.

"Please…just don't say that," Susanna said, "It's…just don't."

Her mind swam with the images of a night seven years previous when Erik told her he was going to leave. He'd thought that he could shake the MRD off their trail if he left and protect them. He'd been right in the end, he generally had a good feeling about such things, but it had left Susanna with the same cold terror for her husband that she felt again.

The terror wasn't just for him though, just as it hadn't been that night. It had also been for her daughter. For all the years that had passed since then Lorna was still young. She still needed to be protected, unable of protecting herself. Despite the many ways that life had changed, some things were still the same.

"I want you to know I'm sorry," he said, the words sounding thick from his lips, "I'm sorry I didn't treat you the way you deserved from the beginning."

Susanna boosted herself up until she was inches from his face.

"I thought I told you," she said, "It's not about deserving."

He leaned down and kissed her, his lips ferocious against hers. Susanna kissed him back, trying to pour all the love she could into the gesture. His arms grabbed her shoulders so tightly Susanna was sure she'd have bruises. The thought that this could be the last time they saw each other wormed itself into her mind, but she dismissed it. Somehow she knew this wasn't going to be their last meeting.

They parted. Erik leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Susanna kept her eyes wide open, memorizing every detail she could of the moment. Even if she was right and this wasn't their last meeting, she knew that it was going to be several terror-filled hours before she saw him again.

Together they walked over to Lorna. Erik made a gesture with his hand to Neena. She moved off, giving the family a respectful distance. Erik knelt in front of Lorna, taking her hands in his. Her wide green eyes looked up at him, the fear and confusion of a child apparent in them.

"Lorna," Erik said, squeezing her hands, "It's not safe here. I'm going to send you and your mother to a safe place."

Lorna's eyes grew wider.

"You're not coming with us?" she asked.

Her tone was heartbreaking. Susanna saw Erik swallow before forcing a smile onto his face.

"No," he said, "I've got to stay here."

"Why can't you come?" asked Lorna.

Erik let go of one of her hands. He reached out and tucked a section of her hair behind her ear.

"I told you once that being a King meant work, sacrifice, and duty," he said, "And that's what this is; duty."

Susanna knelt next to Erik and took Lorna's left hand. She looked at her, her eyes questioning. This was going to be hard.

"Lorna," Susanna said, "once we get a little ways out, you and I are going to be separated. They can't keep us in the same place. It's for security."

Lorna's eyes grew even wider and she began shaking her head. Susanna's grip tightened and she moved closer to her daughter.

"Lorna, it'll keep us safe," she said.

She shook her head again, her breath coming in choking sobs. Erik leaned forward.

"Lorna, those things I said a King had to do…sometimes you have to do those things even when you're a Princess," he said, "And I know it's hard…but remember what I told you."

Her daughter nodded, not even bothering to hold back her tears. Susanna wondered how much of the situation she understood. More than a child should, certainly. She leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Lorna squeezed back and nodded, her tears dripping from her eyes onto the floor.

"There's my girl," Erik said.

Lorna threw her arms around his neck.

"Bye dad," she whispered, "I…I love you."

Erik hugged her back, holding her for a minute.

"Goodbye Lorna," he said, "I love you too."

He released her and stood up, gesturing to Neena. Lorna immediately gripped Susanna's hand, pulling herself close to her and biting her lip. Susanna looked down at her daughter and nodded, too choked for words. She watched silently as Neena came over, accompanied by three other X-men that she recognized from around the palace. She supposed they were thier escort.

"Take care of them," Erik said.

The X-men nodded. Neena walked near Susanna, motioning for her to go down a corridor. The X-men drew around them in a circle, all of them motioning for them to go on. There were tunnels beneath the palace, built there in case of an attack. From their drills Susanna knew that they led to different parts of the city proper. Once there they'd be able to go to the safe zones with minimal time above ground.

The tunnels were poorly lit. They'd been carved far before Erik and Charles had led their revolution to overthrow the original royal line. The floors were broken and damp with moisture. Susanna stumbled several times but kept her grip on Lorna's hand tight. She didn't know how much time they had left.

Above them the ground rumbled. Dust swirled down from the ceiling. Susanna didn't think about it until she saw Neena look up, her eyes worried. Susanna began to worry about the structural integrity of the tunnels. Erik wouldn't have sent them down there if he thought something was wrong with them, but the original escape plan had never said anything about tremors. No one would have taken that into account and Susanna took a deep breath to calm herself.

They came to a fork in the paths. Susanna stifled a cry because she knew what happened next, and she wished more than anything that it didn't.

"Lorna," she said, "I have to go now."

More tears streaked down her daughter's face. Lorna looked fragile enough to break. Susanna knelt on the ground, heedless of the rumbling above them. She held Lorna close to her, putting her face near her ear.

"My brave little girl," she said.

"I love you mom," Lorna said, sniffling.

Tears threatened to spill out of Susanna's eyes, but she had to be strong.

"I love you too Lorna," Susanna said, "So much."

If she had her way she'd have held onto her daughter for hours. Instead she had only minutes before she had to release her. Neena stepped up, grasping Lorna's hand. A few of the other X-men moved over with her, surrounding her daughter. She had to trust that they would protect her now.

They started down the tunnels, Lorna in the one on the left and Susanna in the one on the right. Lorna's green hair showed like a beacon in the gloom of the rock walls. Susanna looked over her shoulder, watching her daughter until they turned a corner and she lost sight of her in the tunnels.


	51. Chapter 51

Emma was surprised to find that she wasn't worried about Kayla. She thought it was odd, considering what was happening in Genosha. The sky was on fire, Sentinels were prowling the streets, and she was part of a force that was fighting off a hostile invasion. She had every reason to be worried out of her mind about her sister and toddler niece.

It actually bothered her that she wasn't worried. Emma actually had more reasons to be worried than most. Kayla lived in a neighborhood in the suburbs that Emma knew was, at that moment, on fire. Her sister lived far from the city, and not very close to the Institute or another safe zone. Her power was non-conducive to fighting Sentinels, and she had a toddler that would slow her down.

She'd had no word that they'd reached one of the safe zones, and all of the zones were on alert for members of the X-men's, Hellions', and cabinet members' families. Family members could be used as bargaining chips by the MRD, and they couldn't allow that to happen. In the current crisis everyone needed to be on their 'A' game and that wouldn't happen if they were worrying about thier captive families.

She'd received word that the Szardos family had made it to the opera house. Azazel had told her during his rounds before teleporting off to help with the hospital's safe zone. They were having a lot of trouble establishing it, and Emma figured that she'd probably have to go there after they secured the opera house unless something else ended up happening.

Emma knew where Calvin was. She'd seen him rallying the Hellions, his skin made of metal. She'd noted it before continuing on. Clarice was on the other side of the island, her teleportation abilities one of the only things keeping Genosha's communication system up and running. Teleportation was incredibly useful, but it was far too rare among Genoshans. Clarice was also a political aide. She'd be in for a busy night.

There was no word of her family though. She kept her ears peeled for their codenames to show up on the radio, but so far there was nothing. The names were secret since they couldn't risk having anyone know who was related to who, but everyone knew that the branches needed to know. That way they wouldn't risk running off and trying to find them themselves.

Emma wasn't worried even though she was listening. The radio was still blaring out across all the lines. The last time she'd taken a break she'd gone close to it, listening to bulletins. The prison had been broken into, and Emma had wondered about the sanity of doing such a thing. Many of the convicts might have been there for crimes against Genosha, but they would feel very strongly about having their country invaded.

However, the more she listened the more she understood the reasoning. They'd broken into the high security wing. If they could get past the security codes, which they might, then they could get Cain out. She'd all but forgotten about him, mostly because he had nothing to do with her, but he had been Weapon X.

If he got out then there was nothing holding Creed in there. She remembered the last time they'd spoken and what he'd said about Kayla and Laura. Emma breathed in, waiting for the worry for her sister and niece to wash over her. It still didn't. She shook her head, wondering what was wrong with her.

She'd continued listening, mostly because there wasn't much else to do during her break. Her keen listening skills had actually picked up Magik, who was apparently one of the Hellions' sisters. Colossus, she believed that was his name, had been beside himself with joy. The random assignation of the codenames Muir, Infinity, and Haller were on the highest alert but hadn't come up yet. So far there'd been no word of the Prime Minister's family.

He was worried about his family. Emma had seen it in his eyes as he rushed around, trying to orchestrate the teleportation evacuation of the palace. So was Erik. She'd seen the way that he'd gazed after his wife and daughter as Neena and the other X-men had escorted them out. There'd been good reason for it.

So it puzzled Emma, as she fought the soldiers and Sentinels that tried to breach the opera house perimeter, that she wasn't worried for her sister or her niece. She loved them just as much as anyone loved their families. Emma had charged heedlessly into an immortal feral in the past to protect her sister. She wanted them to be safe, and now there was no garauntee of that. Why wasn't she worried?

It wasn't that being in battle had shot her into apathy. All of her emotions and faculties, cracked though they were, were functioning perfectly. It wasn't even that she was too busy to worry. Emma had always been good at multitasking. It was simply that she wasn't, that something told her that they were alright.

Emma shook her head, deciding to leave her puzzling lack of worry for later. She put her hands to her head, shattering the minds of several MRD soldiers around her. There was a click of a gun and Emma switched to her diamond form. She was invincible in that, even if she couldn't get into soldier's minds. A Sentinel had even stepped on her in that form. It hadn't gone well for the Sentinel.

It didn't go well for the soldier either. The bullets ricocheted off of her, even going into some of the other soldiers with him. Emma swiped at his head, feeling the crunch beneath her diamond limbs. The rest of the soldiers were easy to take down, but she could see that more were still coming in in an endless wave.

With a snarl she plunged into the throng, her diamond fists taking down anyone who happened to come near her. Azazel had trained her to fight with every limb and digit, regardless of the consequences. He'd been a little more careful with Clarice, her bones were more likely to break, but Emma was used to throwing herself into a fight headfirst.

Blood slicked down her diamond arms, making her glow red in the fires. She stepped on the last soldier's head, crushing it beneath her. For a minute she paused, catching her breath. Even though her body was made of diamond she still had to breathe. It was something she'd wondered about, but had never really cared about enough to ask a geneticist.

She looked up. On the edge of the perimeter a crowd of refugees hurried towards the opera house. From their left a Sentinel bore down on them, and from their right a group of MRD soldiers pressed in. Some of them recognized it and, as Emma hurried forward to secure them, wondered why they weren't doing anything. The possibility that most of them were humans didn't hit until she was close enough to see the lack of visible mutations.

The soldiers threw something around one of the civilians' necks. It was a slender collar that buckled seamlessly around the civilian's throat. It glowed blue and Emma was reminded of the light in the MRD facility where she'd been kept, the light that nullified her powers until they were ready to drill into her.

She saw red as she reached the group, remembering the same fears and pains she'd had when she was a fifteen year old prisoner. Never again. With one hand she grasped the collar and crushed it, yanking it off the civilian. With the other hand she bashed the soldier's head in, his blood adding to her already slick arm. His friends heard the noise and turned towards her, brandishing their guns.

Emma pulled out of her diamond form and extended her hand towards the soldiers. Now that she was there she had to deal with them first. Seconds later they fell to their knees, clutching their heads. A second after that blood poured from their eyes and they lay still. There would be no mercy that night. It was a luxury that they couldn't afford it.

She looked over at the advancing Sentinel, pulling back into her diamond form. Emma didn't relish the prospect of fighting a Sentinel one on one. The smallest group that had successfully taken on a Sentinel had been composed of three Hellions, and one of them could fly. She could hold it off for a while though.

A Hellion named Thunderbird rushed forwards, barreling into the Sentinel's leg. Emma followed his lead and did the same. Her diamond form bent the metal, but her fingers were too blunt to dig into the metal and rip it apart. She looked over at Thunderbird who had managed to upturn the end of the Sentinel's foot.

The Sentinel wobbled but lowered one of its hands, shooting a laser at Thunderbird. The laser came down hot and fast, causing Emma to leap out of the way. Thunderbird managed to dodge the blast in time, but the blast's force sent him crashing into the wall of an opposite building. It didn't sound good, but he was built like a tank and inside the perimeter. She could already see the medics rushing in to assist him.

She looked up at the Sentinel as it directed another blast towards her. Emma dodged and pulled herself close to its leg again. Emma saw that another Hellion, someone named Colossus, had stepped in to take his colleague's place. She nodded at him as they moved around it, trying to take down its center of balance.

On the bright side it was apparent that the Sentinel's attention had been taken away from the refugees. Emma and Colossus moved in such a path that the Sentinel was forced to turn its back on them if it wanted to neutralize them. Since they were the ones attacking it it correctly concluded that they were the more immediate threat. It was right in supposing that.

Emma could see that the civilians had taken advantage of the opportunity. They were going through the designated path towards the opera house, which was being protected on all sides. It was big enough to hold them and attend to their injured. They'd be checked though, strictly for security purposes. If it turned out that anyone had any mutations that could help, although Emma seriously doubted it since none had displayed any, they'd be drafted into the zone's defense.

On the downside the Sentinel's attention was now solely focused on Emma and Colossus. Having an enemy's undivided attention was always a bad thing. It was an even worse thing when the enemy in question was a giant iron robot that shot lasers and sent buildings toppling to the ground with one hit.

It shot out several lasers and Emma rolled to avoid them. One skimmed the top of Emma's arm. Even in her diamond form she hissed from the pain. The heat was extreme, extreme enough to kill her if she got caught in it directly. She winced at the knowledge. If she'd been in her normal form then she knew her arm would've been taken clean off and cauterized.

"Hey, bub!"

Emma looked to her right where Colossus was. She made out the figure of Logan talking to him in rushed tones. She got to her feet, wondering what on earth was going on. A minute later Colossus picked Logan up and threw him into the air. Emma stood still and, despite her best efforts, openly gaped.

There was an ear-wrenching sound of metal being ripped apart. Emma had to cover her ears. The Sentinel began to wobble and Emma hurried back, along with Colossus. Seconds later the Sentinel's head was tossed to the ground, sparking with its electrical wires. The Sentinel slowly collapsed onto its knees.

Logan jumped off the Sentinel's shoulder, his bone claws dripping with blood. They had splintered, the jagged ends of the bone piercing the skin of his hands. Emma watched as the claws slowly repaired themselves and Logan cracked his neck, warding away the pain. Colossus looked at him with awe.

Emma stepped forward and Logan nodded at her, cracking his neck again.

"That was amazing," Colossus said.

"It was in our way," Logan said.

Emma turned around, knowing that there was only one 'our' that Logan would include himself with. From the shadowed alcoves of a building Kayla stepped forward, clutching Laura. She looked at Emma and hurried forward. Emma turned into flesh just in time to hug her sister, not even bothering to check for injuries. Somehow she knew that there wasn't a scratch on either Kayla or Laura.

Her continued confidence confused her. Then she took a minute to look at the Sentinel, its head still sparking and the metal around it peeled back. Logan's claws were healing back to their usual length, his face determined and angry. Her mind began to whir, her worldview shifting under her. Even though the sounds of battle echoed all around them and this was the worst time for it to happen, Emma felt fine.

Kayla released her and hefted Laura in her arms.

"Glad to see you're alright," Kayla said.

Emma smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I'm always alright," she said, "Glad to see that you're making it too."

She let her eyes meet Logan's. Emma knew now why she hadn't been afraid for her sister or niece. There was no reason for it, not when they had someone who was willing to charge a Sentinel single-handed and rip it apart with his bare hands for them. It was hard to argue with that sort of devotion, and she felt a wave of familial affection for Logan wash over her, the first she'd ever felt.

"Not surprised," she said, "Glad."

Logan's eyebrow raised before he nodded. He understood.

"The opera house is very close now," Emma said, "Go on. I'm scheduled to break there before I move on."

She tilted her head at Logan.

"I can take these ones, but don't worry," Emma said, "I'll be sure to leave some Sentinels for you."

Logan smirked before wrapping his arm around Kayla's shoulder and moving onwards. She turned her skin to diamond, walking next to Colossus to guard the path. It was clear, but it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"What do you have?" he asked.

Emma frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"In hand," Colossus said, "What is it you have?"

Emma looked down, realizing for the first time that, despite the battle, she was still holding the collar. Her rage at the familiarity of the light had blinded her to the practicality of holding onto it. Embarrassingly she realized that it had also blinded her to the fact that she was holding onto it at all.

The more she looked at it the more her mind began to whir. Her lips tightened and she looked behind her in the direction of the opera house.

"Something HQ needs to know about," she said.


	52. Chapter 52

Charles rested his head on his hand, propping it against the desk. The government had set up shop inside the Institute. Its secluded location made it the perfect safe zone for them to use. It even had its own generator to power the massive amount of radio equipment that they'd brought with them.

The trip there had been long, and it hadn't exactly been easy. Even with Clarice teleporting them they'd had to cover several miles on foot. Her teleportation radius had increased over time, but the Institute was well outside of the city limits. There was a great deal of ground to cover, and her crystals were mostly needed for the equipment. With Azazel off working with the Hellions, she was their only option and she couldn't be everywhere at once.

As such there had been a few skirmishes. Erik had taken apart several Sentinels on the way over, but he could tell that it was draining his friend. When they'd gotten there the trouble hadn't ended. There was no word on whether or not Lorna and Susanna had reached their safe points. It wasn't anything, not yet, but according to thier calculated arrival times they were still running late.

He looked down at the map, trying to concentrate. Across from him Erik stood, drumming his fingers against the table and glaring down at it. They'd highlighted the safe zones and had pins representing the different amount of troops at each one. They were receiving regular updates, updates which required them to keep looking at the shifting battle lines so they could continue to issue orders.

Everything was changing, but the updates helped them keep on top of things. The Hellion base had been amazing in that respect. Christopher hadn't even had time to go home when the attack began. He'd just gotten right back to work and commanded his operators to switch to emergency channels. Without his quick thinking their communication lines would've slowed to a crawl.

As it was Charles found that things were still going poorly. They had planned for the situation, minues the giant robots, and had implemented that plan. The surprise attack had thrown them off, but they should've recovered by that point.

They should've at least been doing some damage to their enemy. Instead unnumbered waves of Sentinels continued to pour into Genosha. It was like the MRD had a limitless supply of them, although he knew that to be impossible.

He sighed as Erik tapped on teh table again.

"How is the prison situation going?" asked Erik.

Charles concentrated, letting his consciousness leap to the operators. By now they'd gotten used to their Prime Minister's presence in their heads.

"The members of Weapon X were seen entering it a few minutes ago," Charles said, "I assume they want to see if they can free Cain."

He shuddered at the thought. He'd let his stepbrother fade in his mind until he was nothing more than a bad dream. Now that there was the possibility of him coming back onto the field the bad dream once more reared its head. He couldn't let that happen. He knew what his stepbrother was.

"We can't let that happen," Erik said, voicing his thoughts, "The man's a tank."

"I quite agree," Charles said.

He concentrated a bit more.

"The prisoners and the guards laid charges before they escaped through the sewer system," he said, "They say that they've evacuated everyone and given it over to the MRD soldiers. They want permission to blow it up."

There was no hesitation in Erik's face. Charles had to agree.

"Permission granted."

Charles relayed the order. He waited for a minute for the answer.

"They've blown the building," Charles said, "It's a successful detonation. They're just waiting to see if anyone comes out."

"They've done a good job," Erik said.

"I think pardons are in order once this is over," Charles said.

"I think they are," Erik agreed.

One of the operators pushed back from their desk.

"I'm picking up something from the field!" they called, "White Queen is saying she has some information for you."

Charles tapped his temples as a sign to Erik that he was going to share it with him as heard it. It was an established pattern, one from the revolution. They needed to be able to share information fast. Charles sometimes wondered why fate had given him telepathy and Erik magnetism. If one believed in destiny he figured that it was so that they would be the perfect pair of leaders. As long as they worked together, he was confident that they could win.

He listened to Emma's news with mounting dread. It appeared that they weren't just dealing with MRD soldiers and Sentinels anymore. They were now also dealing with collars, ones that had come back to haunt them. If the MRD were using the collars, then that meant that they didn't mean to kill everyone on Genosha. Considering what the MRD did to its prisoners though, some of them might soon be wishing for death.

There was a slight pause.

"The collar design," Erik said once it was over, "Do you know it?"

He racked his brains, trying to gather up all the information he knew on the subject.

"Not very well I'm afraid, but yes, I do know of them," he said, "There was a briefing on it a few years back. I know that Trask was designing collars to mimic the effects of the generators that nullified mutants' powers."

"Why?" asked Erik.

"He wanted it to be portable for field use," Charles said, "I'm also under the impression that it would've been cheaper to make them than the generators. The generators were using too much electricity and attracting too much attention."

"Trask is still in custody in the States, correct?" asked Erik.

"During the last weekly check yes, he was," Charles said.

He sighed.

"So it's not him," Charles said, "Whoever's doing this is using his designs. He was a chief member of the MRD."

"Or maybe they had them all along," Erik said, "And were stockpiling them for use as their secret weapon."

Charles shook his head.

"No," he said, "They've obviously been planning this for a long time, but I don't think they ever had the resources for the collars before."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"The problem was, supposadly, that they needed too much individual attention," Charles said, "And the MRD thought they would be too time-consuming. Moira told me that the blue prints indicate that the design never got off the ground."

He hesitated over his wife's name. As soon as he finished his sentence he closed his eyes. There was still no news of her or his children. At least Erik knew where his wife and daughter were heading. Charles didn't know anything. Every second was a constant struggle not to run out the door and find them.

Charles felt the weight of Erik's hand on his shoulder. He looked up to find Erik staring at him with sympathy.

"I'm sure Moira and the children are alright," he said.

Charles nodded, but deep inside he felt like he was drowning, just barely managing to keep his head above water.

* * *

"Ready?" asked Morph.

Moira took a deep breath and nodded. Outside of their cell they could hear footsteps coming closer. Her back was pressed up against the wall next to the door with Morph beside her. They'd been like that for hours, on the alert for the merest hint of a noise outside. If the MRD guards opened their door, even for a moment, they were going after them. Each time it had been a false alarm, but they had never let their guard down.

Moira was reminded of when she'd been stuck in the back of that truck before her marriage to Charles. She'd been able to see more then, but she'd been just as helpless. She'd known there was nothing to do at the time, but she'd been in a constant state of vigilance. You never knew when the opportunity might arise. And when you were in that kind of situation, you needed to take of every advantage you were given.

The footsteps stopped by their door. She felt Morph tense next to her. There was the sound of keys rattling and muffled conversation. There was a pause in their conversation and the keys rattled once more. It was like the guards were debating something. She didn't know what that meant. It could mean that they didn't want to check on them or that they didn't know what type of coffee was being served.

Moira held her breath, hoping against hope that they would come inside. When they did she believed that the guards would be taken by surprise. There had to be some sort of prisoner manifesto, and they wouldn't come in completely unprepared for the type of prisoner inside. They'd believe that the prisoners in this cell were helpless; an old man and a pregnant woman.

Outside the shifting sliver of light under the door signaled that someone was indeed on the other side of the door, and they were getting ready to come in. From the amount of shuffling she could see that it was two people. It was just like the scenarion that they'd gone over. Ideally there would've been only one, but this was still the situation that they'd discussed the most.

Morph made a gesture indicating where they were going to go when things went down. The door began to open. Moira shut her eyes, just like Morph had told her to. Otherwise the light would be too much for them after so much darkness. They couldn't afford being blinded when she was fighting guards.

She heard the door open, hitting the other side of the wall. Morph moved and Moira moved behind him, not quite getting up. He went for the person on the right while Moira went for the one on the left. She only had their shadows from under the door to go from, but it was going to have to be enough.

She slid herself forward and kicked outwards, tripping the guard. From the grunt that he emitted Moira could tell that he was male, and she kicked him again. This time she kicked harder, knowing she'd have to disable him. He fell to her level and she kicked out one more time to ascertain his position.

Scrambling she got to her feet. From the noises to her right she could tell that Morph was having some success. His disguise only made him look old. It didn't affect his abilities, and beneath his wrinkled exterior he had the strength and stamina of a man in his mid-twenties.

Moira began to open her eyes a sliver to take in her surroundings. She could barely make out that she'd slammed himself into the guard that he was taking down. Once they were down he'd sat on top of them, punching indiscriminately.

Moira's guard began to get up. With her eyes still open only a sliver she moved forward and slammed her fist into his throat. It was a good move, one she'd learned would disorient him in her training with the CIA. He fell to the ground again and Moira kicked out, making sure that her foot made contact with the side of his head. She'd kicked as hard as she could, and it had worked. He slumped over, unconscious.

To her right Morph continued to hit his guard. With her own guard out for the count Moira knew it was safe to turn her back on him. She walked over, her hands on the wall. With a steady stream of support she began opening her eyes slowly but surely. Already her eyes had begun to hurt. Bad.

Her vision was limited. She couldn't get a definite picture of what was going on yet, but she did know one thing.

"You can stop hitting him now," Moira said.

Morph looked up, his own eyes firmly shut. He really did look like a harmless old man, his skin wrinkled and his hair reduced to white wisps. She would have expected him to have a cane if she encountered him on the streets. Instead he was spattered with the blood of the man that he'd just punched into submission.

"And there's no one else?" he asked.

"No one," Moira said.

"Okay. That's good," Morph said, pumping his hand into the air, "Could you give me a minute while I get my eyes back?"

"Sure thing," Mora said.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes all the way. Her eyes watered and she had to resist the urge to close her eyes again. After keeping her eyes open for a few more seconds she blinked in the light. She couldn't tell how long she'd been in the darkness, but however long it had been it had skewed her sight. Everything looked fuzzy around the edges.

From what she could see the hall looked sterile. There was an endless row of doors stretching out before her, each door looking uniform. Her own door looked like the others and Moira took note of the detail, tucking it away. It meant that all the other doors were most likely filled with prisoners.

She knelt down and began searching the guard she'd taken down. They probably didn't have much time before other guards came to check out the commotion. This all felt clinical and she had a feeling that MRD employees were used to doing guard duty. They probably weren't used to prisoners escaping or little old men and pregnant women attacking them, but they'd have to get used to it.

His pockets were bulging with assorted equipment. She found his gun and pocketed it before unlacing his boots. Using the laces sparingly she tied him up. Each knot was large and difficult to undo. She'd never thought that she'd have to use most of her training, but she was finding herself increasingly thankful for it.

Morph had moved away from his guard, so she began searching him too, finding a key ring in addition to a gun. She put it on her wrist like a bracelet before unlacing his boots. By the time Moira finished tying him up Morph had opened his eyes. She handed him the gun and jangled the key ring.

"Think it's about time we got some allies," she said.


	53. Chapter 53

Freeing the other prisoners had been easier than Moira had expected. The patrols were loose around the corridors, and any guards who came in were quickly overwhelmed by the prisoners that they had managed to arm. Morph's elderly appearance also served to throw more than one MRD soldier off his game.

Many of the other prisoners were wounded. Most of them were mutants, and they'd been unwilling to be taken in without a fight. From the scars that had become imbedded in thier skin she saw she could see that this wasn't the first time they'd been in MRD custody. She couldn't imagine how horrific it must have been to realize that they had to go back to that nightmare.

Moira didn't know how to help beyond retying bandages and making splints. Most of the injuries were straightforward though; they just needed to rest. The uninjured prisoners were stimulated by their suffering, taking down guards with extreme prejudice. No alarm had gone off, and she assumed that there was only a skeleton crew working the prison cages. The rest must have gone off to try and subjugate Genosha.

They weren't going to have an easy time of it. The prisoners she was with fought like cornered animals, claws lashing out. They had too many memories of imprisonment and oppression. Even the children she encountered looked fierce, their own memories and scars running deep. The MRD was fighting a country that was dedicated to prolonging its existence.

Two of the larger prisoners heaved a door ahead of them, smashing it open. Immediately she heard the clicking and aiming of guns from inside. Morph leapt in between them, taking aim and shooting the soldiers inside. Other Genoshans that they'd armed surged forwards, taking down the other soldiers. Many of the operators were reaching for their own guns, but it was too late.

One operator managed to reach his gun and levelled it at Moira. She began to move out of the way, but Morph tackled him, knocking the gun out of his hands. He pulled the man's arms behind his back, twisting them. The operator cried out and Morph pulled him into a chair, pressing his gun firmly to the man's temple.

Moira took a deep breath, rubbing her stomach and trying to look as though she hadn't almost been shot. She held her head up high and walked forwards. Several of the mutants were looking with disgust at the operator, and one hit him as he walked by.

She looked around, taking in thier surroundings. The room was a mesh platform with twin staircases on either side of it. It looked over a larger platform with machine parts scattered about. Several computers had been set up, each one showing a different signal. She saw a radar as well as a tracking system for what she could only assume were the giants she'd seen earlier.

A wave of nausea hit her and she wobbled. One of the other Genoshans noticed and dumped a dead body out of a chair so she could sit in it. She nodded at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, even though it made her skin crawl at the same time. A man had been shot in that chair. They were in the middle of a battleground though. She couldn't afford to be too picky.

She sat down in it and swiveled it so she could look the operator in the eye.

"Now," Moira said, "I know you're scared. And you've got every reason to be. Just about every person in this room would like to kill you, and the only thing keeping them back is that they think you might know how to deactivate these."

She tapped the collar on her neck. The operator's eyes widened and Morph shoved the gun closer to his head.

"And if you do that, then you'll be looking at being a prisoner," Moira said, "Which I think you'll agree is a lot better than being shot in the head."

The operator nodded and gestured to the keyboard. Morph stayed close, the gun still to the man's head.

"Don't try any funny business like calling for your friends," Morph said, "I see any MRD shitheads come through that door and I shoot. Got it?"

The operator nodded, his fingers flying over the keyboards. Moira heard a beep and her collar clicked open. She took it off her neck and threw it to the floor. Other mutants were ripping theirs off, crushing it beneath their feet. One prisoner smashed it in his hand, heedless of the sparks and wires.

Morph took his off, casually throwing it over his shoulder. The façade of his age fell away to reveal smooth gray skin. His eyes were the same color, an emotionless hue. He smacked the operator with the butt of his gun, sending him to the floor. Morph knelt down to tie him up and Moira blinked.

"I do know you," she said.

He looked up and cocked his head. She remembered a file somewhere in her desk; Kevin Sydney, alias Morph. It was strange that she'd never thought of it before, but the night had been full of unexpected happenings.

"You were at that dinner we had last year," Moira said, "You spilt punch all over the dessert table."

"Truth be told ma'am," Morph grinned, "I was trying to spike it."

Moira laughed, the first time she'd felt like doing so in hours. Morph chuckled too. She leaned her head against her arm ans smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

Morph raised an eyebrow.

"For saving my life," Moira clarified.

He grinned and straightened up.

"All in a day's work," Morph said.

He looked around the room, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Attention everyone!" he said.

The prisoners milling about looked up at him. He clapped his hands together.

"Okay everyone," he said, "I'm Morph of the Hellions Special Forces. Now that we've got an area we can call a base we're going to get organized. Got it?"

There were a few nods.

"Now then," Morph said, "This is one of my co-workers."

He gestured to Moira. She felt the sudden urge to shut him up. While she trusted her fellow Genoshans, there were still several MRD prisoners around her. Even the chance that they could escape made revealing who she was an unnecessary risk. Moira looked up, wondering if she should punch him.

"She works with the tech branch," he said, "You find anything that looks like information about how these guys are working, you bring it to her."

He looked at her.

"You've got the floor," he said.

Moira cleared her throat. She wished he'd cleared it with her first, but the way he'd phrased it made sense.

"Are there any mutants with technological powers out there?" she asked, "People who work with computers?"

A few people stepped forwards. Moira motioned for them to come forward. They began climbing the steps.

"We're going to get into contact with the Hellion base and if they have any feeds to those giants," Moira said, "See if we can shut these scumbags down."

They nodded and sat down at their desks.

"Now then," Morph said, "We're gonna start doing patrols around here. Can't be too careful. Don't want to run into any of these assholes' buddies."

There were a few nods. Morph looked down at Moira and winked.

"Can you get started on trying to hail the Hellions?" he asked, "The X-men would be great too. Or the government."

He waved his hand.

"You know, people that make things go boom," he said.

Moira looked at the computer desk. She pulled on a pair of headphones and began fiddling with the dials. She hoped her CIA training would be enough.

"We're on different frequencies," Moira said, "I'll try to match it up, but I'd need to put in codes to get into contact with them."

He nodded and turned back to the assembled prisoners.

"Okay everybody," Morph said, clapping his hands, "Let's see if we can't take any of these other assholes down."

* * *

Alex readjusted the blanket. A makeshift mattress had been set up on the floor of the office. Scott was fast asleep, his head resting on Alex's shoulder. His brother had fallen asleep sitting up. Alex had managed to get the blanket over him. He didn't want his brother getting a cold on top of everything else.

He'd tried to get to sleep himself. Alex had been running coffee and snacks to the operators at one point, but they'd all been freshly supplied when he went back to his brother. Scott had been too young to be outside of the office for long, and he'd apparently been scared of going to sleep alone there. It was only after Alex had arrived that he'd relaxed.

Alex looked over at his mother. She frowned, turning the dials on her radio back and forth. Her lips set in a firm line.

"Christopher!" she called.

He watched his father come over to her, leaning over her desk.

"What is it Katherine?" he asked.

"I'm picking up an unfamiliar signal, faint but there," she said, "They're using our codes, but the wavelength isn't anything we're familiar with."

Alex's father frowned, his expression matching his mother's.

"In that case-" he began.

The ground trembled violently, upsetting papers and desks. People and equipment fell to the ground. The glass in the partition that divided them shattered. The lights sparked before giving out. Scott woke up, crying out as the walls rattled around them. Alex looked up and saw in the dim light that his father had grabbed his mother by the arm, jerking her away from her post.

"Generator's out!" he yelled, "Get to the back-up position!"

Alex scrambled to his feet. He grabbed Scott's hand and kicked down the door to the partition. His father and mother met them halfway. He felt their arms around his shoulders before they continued on, not even stopping. Another tremor shook the ground and his father continued to push them towards the exit.

Scott, still half-asleep but completely terrified, stumbled over his feet. He began to fall towards the floor. At the last minute Alex grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him back up. Alex heaved him up, his arms around him. They didn't have time to do anything else, and his parents couldn't reach him. So Alex carried him, trying not to let his brother's added weight slow down their escape.

He wondered, in the days and months to come, what would have happened if his father had picked up Scott instead. If he'd been closer, which he very nearly was, then he'd have picked up his little brother with no thought. Some act of God had ended up putting Alex closer though, and so it was him, and not his father, who was holding Scott when the roof came down.

A beam of red light cut through the ceiling. Alex saw people burn and melt beneath its beam, their screams filling the air. The smell of burning meat filled his nostrils and Alex tried not to gag. The roof began to shake, spirals of dust trickling downwards. What looked like a giant metal hand, something he supposed belonged to a Sentinel, swiped through the ceiling, sending stone and plaster raining down on them.

Alex felt a strong push from behind him. He fell forwards, letting go of Scott. His brother skidded forwards several feet. Alex felt his own head scrape up against the pavement, breaking skin and penetrating deep. A few pieces of the ceiling hit his back, cutting and bruising. He cried out, trying to get his bearings.

When he finally felt well enough to look up he turned his head. Dust still clouded the air, but it cleared after a moment. Behind him, where his parents had been standing a minute before, was a pile of plaster, broken wood, and ceiling tiles. Furniture from the top levels had fallen in too, adding the weight of the load that had been dropped when the Sentinel's hand went through.

From beneath the rubble he saw his father's hand, cut and bruising. Alex saw a few strands of his mother's golden hair. A growing puddle of blood seeped out from beneath the pile, spreading towards him. He got to his feet and watched the puddle's progress, his legs shaking and his head fuzzy. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to vomit, his whole body heaving.

The blood touched his shoes but Alex continued to watch, transfixed. Blood from his own wound seeped into his eye, trailing down his face like a tear. His own tears followed the trail of blood, mingling with it and dripping down his chin. Alex's mouth opened and he took in shuddering breaths.

Above him he heard a metallic grating. Alex looked up and saw the Sentinel, its face peering inside the building. Lights from its eyes showed down, bathing the room in an unearthly golden glow. Alex stared back into it, blood and tears still dripping down his face, his hands hanging limply by his side.

The Sentinel withdrew, towering above him. One of its arms moved and it raised its hand in slow motion. Its palm began to glow red, gears whirring within it and its eyes still staring at him. Behind him Scott began to scream. Alex couldn't hear if it was his name or if he was using words at all.

The hot tears burned his face and he could feel the fading warmth of his parents blood around his feet. The warmth burned through his skin, feeling like fire and rage. The sun was bursting in his veins, stabbing into his heart and head. Alex took another shuddering breath, his own lungs burning with the rest of his body.

Red light surrounded him, burning in rings. He recognized his own mutation, but it burned like never before. The fire was leaving him, surrounding him in the firey light. Scott screamed again and the light pulsed, turning a darker hue. The light in the Sentinel's palm began to gather as Alex released the light towards the Sentinel, barely knowing what he was doing.

The rings of light chopped through the Sentinel's arm, killing the light. It went on cleaving straight through to cut its head in half. Sparks wreathed it in a demonic halo, its head sliding in half and falling to the ground. He heard a groaning noise as it collapsed in on itself, the ground trembling under the impact.

An arm grasped him, pulling him away. Alex looked over and saw Psylocke, one of the Hellions he'd seen nearly every day on the training ground. She was cut up and bleeding in a dozen places, her uniform torn. Her swords were on her back and she began to tug him towards the doorway. He saw that Thunderbird had picked Scott up, already moving through the doorway.

"Alex!" Psylocke yelled, "We need to go!"

He looked at her, tears drying on his cheeks. Psylocke shook her head before pulling him after her, his mind and heart still burning.


	54. Chapter 54

Kayla shifted Laura in her arms. It had taken all of her skills to coax her daughter to go to sleep. She hadn't been fond of the idea of using her mutation to get what she wanted from her friends and family. However, Logan had told her they didn't have time to split hairs. If Laura got scared and screamed then she'd not only have given them away but have interfered with her father's senses. Kayla had never had to work her mutation so hard for such a small effect. Laura certainly did take after her father.

Her daughter was awake now, her two-year-old eyes staring and taking everything in. Kayla had washed the grime off her face as best she could and found snacks for her to eat. Margali, a woman she knew as Azazel's foster cousin, had offered her assistance. Her family had been in the opera house almost since it had started, around five hours ago, and were more settled.

Margali had two children as well as her husband with her. Jimaine, who'd just been born, would wake up every few minutes and start crying. Margali would soothe her back to sleep, murmuring lullabies in another language. Her son was handling the situation better, but his eyes had the same look of hunted confusion that Kayla saw in all the children's eyes.

Kayla looked up and saw Emma approaching. She'd changed since the last time she'd seen her. Her jumpsuit was no longer ragged and soaked with blood and soot. Once again it was pure white, and Emma had even managed to wash some of the grit of the battlefield off of her hair and face. Her shoes were still the same though a testament to what she'd waded through.

Emma crouched down in front of her. Kayla reached out and grabbed her hand. It had been over seven years since they'd been in their last hopeless situation together. Kayla didn't have to try very hard to remember their car breaking down and taking her thirteen-year-old sister in her arms. The sirens of the MRD hadn't been far behind and she'd known that they hadn't had much time. She'd never felt so helpless.

However, it wasn't seven years ago. They weren't alone now. Emma was part of an army. Kayla was married with a child. All around them they had countrymen, people who shared a quirk in their DNA. The same people might have been trying to wipe them out, but they were stronger now.

"I'm heading off to the Hellion base," Emma said, "This place is pretty secure right now and I just heard that they've got trouble down there."

"Emmy gone?" asked Laura.

Emma smiled.

"Just for a little bit Laura," she said.

She looked back at Kayla, shifting he weight a little.

"You know," she said, "back when you married Logan, I thought he wasn't good enough for you, that you deserved better."

Kayla blinked, taken a back.

"I never said anything," Emma said, "You were so happy after all. But it's what I thought. What I thought for years really."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Emma shook her head.

"But today I saw how much he really loves you," Emma said, "It's fierce, and it's protective, and it's the kind of love that you deserve."

Emma cocked her head.

"I've never been so glad to be wrong."

"Glad to hear it."

Behind Emma Logan walked up. Emma looked up at him, smiling. He shook his head, sighing and scratching the back of his neck.

"You're an odd one," he said.

"I know," Emma said.

She turned back to Kayla and kissed her sister on the forehead.

"I'll be seeing you soon Máóhkataatoyi," she said.

Kayla smiled at the use of the Blackfoot name.

"Have a good hunt, Ksikksinaattsiwa," Kayla said.

Emma nodded and got to her feet. Kayla saw how much she'd changed over the past few years. It might not have all been for the better, but her sister was going out to fight like she never had when she was younger. There was no more hesitation in her. Emma smiled before she walked off to a respectful distance, leaving Kayla alone with her daughter and husband.

Next to her Logan sat down. Kayla had known he'd be leaving as soon as he got them to safety. It wasn't in his nature to run away from a fight. It was one of the things in common, something they'd been able to relate to about each other. She'd be out there too if she didn't have Laura to think about. As it was, he was the one who was invincible. If anyone was going to go out there into that chaos, it was going to have to be him.

With one calloused hand he reached out and stroked Laura's now chin-length black hair. He paused at a spot behind her ear, tugging on a few strands. Laura giggled softly; she had a ticklish spot there. Logan grinned and turned her head so Laura was facing him. She stared at him intently.

"Daddy?" she asked.

His face softened and he took her small hand in his.

"Hey girl," he said, "I'm gonna be goin' soon. You behave for you mom here, got it?"

Laura frowned, sitting up.

"Where?" she asked.

Kayla shared a look with Logan. Keeping her daughter asleep through the fire and terrors of the city certainly hadn't been easy, but it really had been for the best. She could stay ignorant of what was out there, not know what her father was getting himself into. Laura was too young to understand about healing factors. She'd see the flames but not the defense.

"Work," he said.

It was true enough. Laura accepted the explanation, nodding. Her hand wriggled out of his grasp and joined with its twin to grab the sides of his head, pulling it down to hit hers. Kayla had no idea where she'd learned the mannerism from. It most certainly hadn't been her, and she'd never seen Logan do it before.

"Be seein' you soon girl," Logan said, grinning.

He chuffed her chin and looked up at Kayla.

"Going to be a busy day at the office," she said.

Logan chuckled and stroked the side of her face.

"As long as this is what I'm comin' back to," he said.

He paused.

"Been in a lot of wars Kayla," he said.

"I know," she said.

Logan tightened his grip on her cheek.

"This is the only one where I've got somethin' I wanna protect," he said.

Kayla blinked, holding back tears. She leaned forward and Logan kissed her hard, his lips pulsing against hers. He pulled back, still holding onto her face for a minute. She wondered why he was looking at her with a studying look, but it was almost like he was looking for something in her face. From the light in his eyes Kayla could tell that, whatever it was, he'd found it.

"Give them hell," Kayla said.

"Always," Logan said.

He got up and walked over to Emma. Kayla watched them until they were out of sight, still holding onto her daughter. Her tears fell onto Laura's head and Laura looked up at her.

"Mommy?" she asked.

Kayla forced a smile.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Want to hear a story?" she asked.

Laura nodded, her confusion turning to excitement.

"Alright," Kayla said.

She cleared her throat and smoothed her daughter's hair.

"Why is the moon lonely?"

* * *

Susanna took a deep breath. She'd been to the opera house several times in the past for functions. She remembered the constant whirl of state dinners, charity concerts, and other events. She'd always been impressed by how large the opera house was, and how many people always came to the events.

Now the opera house seemed small. She'd seen thousands of people crowded into its halls. It was wreathed by a ring of forces to protect it from the Sentinels and soldiers. Barbed wire and piles of sandbags formed a temporary barrier around it. Everyone was being screened before they came in, all of them looking scared and lost. Some were injured and had been shuffled off for care.

Susanna breathed in and looked behind her. Two X-men, whose names she was vaguely aware were Sarah and Samuel, stood by the door. Neither of them were talking, and she supposed that it was just as well. Despite her reputation as a warm conversationalist by the press, Susanna didn't want the strain of talking in such a situation. There would be too much she'd be leaving unsaid.

Her hand went to her throat. When the tremors had first started she'd run from her room with Lorna with few thoughts other than getting out of there. As a result she knew that she probably looked like a mess. It had been the time of day when things were winding down and she'd thought she could afford to relax.

Nonetheless she was wearing her old silver rose necklace. Susanna turned it over in her hands. The silver polish had worn off it with the years. She refused to have it refinished though. It had gotten that way through nights of tears and constant use. Susanna wasn't going to forget any of it.

Her mind strayed to her friends, the life she'd built on Genosha. It had been a struggle, and sometimes Susanna had wondered what the point of it all had been. However, it was a precious life where she'd been given more than she could have ever dreamed of. She didn't want to lose a single aspect of it.

The minutes seemed to pass like hours. One of her hands traced a pattern on the back of a chair. She'd gotten a balcony to herself, the curtains nailed shut and the door watched. Susanna had to be kept separate and she wasn't allowed to leave the hallway. No one could know that she was there, or the opera house could very quickly turn into a target. She wouldn't risk that.

She'd been told that the Institute had been transformed into the seat of government by Sarah. That meant that her husband was several miles away from her. She had to swallow the lump in her throat when she thought of that. They had always stuck together when something bad was happening, but that was before Genosha. Now everyone was spread out.

Since no two members of the royal family were in the same zone together she could only assume that Lorna was at the hospital. They'd had no word of her safe arrival, but communication was slow in some places. She hoped that Neena was being gentle with her. Neena had been good to her, even if it had been rather awkward having a bodyguard in the first place. She would takegood care of her daughter, but Susanna hoped that she would be able to shield Lorna from some of the horrors of what was happening. She was so sensitive.

* * *

Neena pushed through the tunnels, sweat gathering in her hair. Lorna walked behind her, her footsteps tapping on the ground. Arthur followed close behind her. They should have reached the hospital by then. They were moving slower than they should have been though; they were carting along a child.

In her lifetime Neena had been called many things, but sentimental wasn't one of them. There had been little room for sentimentality in MRD custody. At the same time she felt sorry for the girl. She knew the princess was upset. She'd be surprised if any eleven-year-old child wasn't in the circumstances. The world she'd known was burning and now she'd been separated from her parents.

Behind her Lorna stumbled. Arthur righted her and gestured for her to keep moving. The ground was full of potholes and rocks, making it hard for a child to navigate. She didn't try to hold Lorna's hand though. If she did that then she wouldn't be able to reach for her guns. Having the girl be upset for a little while was better than running the risk that she would die.

Behind her Arthur ran a hand through his hair. She wondered if Arthur knew the precarious nature of their situation. They were escorting a child through tunnels to a place that, while it had been established as a safe zone, would not necessarily remain one. Neena had never seen anything like the Sentinels before, and she wasn't sure how to deal with them if they came across one besides aim for the head.

She had Arthur with her though. Neena had thought her mutation was rare. How many mutants had luck-enhancing mutations? When she met Arthur she'd realized that, while it wasn't uncommon, she wasn't the only one. Together she thought that their combined probability-altering field might just be enough to make it safely to the hospital with the princess unharmed.

She'd protected the girl for over four years. It hadn't always been easy, but it had been a duty that Neena had thrown herself into. Lorna had a natural charm that made people want to protect her, to help her, even to turn a blind eye when she snuck off to explore the castle with her friend. That charm would serve her well when she became queen, and Neena had the feeling that she'd break many hearts.

If anything happened to her that night Neena wouldn't be able to forgive herself. Lorna was her charge. The level of trust that had been placed in her over the years as Lorna's chief bodyguard was staggering. She'd done well at it, and she could tell that her life wouldn't be worth living if she failed.

Fortunately for her she was sure that Magnus would share the same view. If Lorna died and Neena somehow lived Magnus would make sure that those conditions didn't last for long. He would blame her and, she'd seen how fiercely he felt about his family, would take his grief and anger out on her. There would be no trial, no hesitation. He wouldn't bother to try to be legal about it.

The blame would be with her though, so in a way it was alright. Neena just wondered if Arthur knew that if Lorna died, they did too. She decided not to tell him. Not then at any rate. Lorna was with them, and there was no point in scaring the princess more than she'd already been scared.

The hospital was their goal now. That's where they'd been instructed to take Lorna, and that was where she was going. If Neena's luck held out, and it tended to do so, then they'd reach it in a few minutes. Already the tunnels were looking more familiar. Come hell or high water, they were going to make it.


	55. Chapter 55

Calvin dropped from the plane next to the Hellion base, his metallic skin hitting the ground hard. He looked at the base where he'd been trained, had rallied his troops, adn been given command. At least eighteen Sentinels were converging on it. The few Hellions that they had left behind were fighting tooth and nail, but the bodies of office workers and other Hellions littered the ground.

He felt Logan and Emma thud on the ground behind him. Logan shook his limbs as his broken bones healed, and his narrowed eyes looked over the scene. Emma kept her diamond skin firmly intact and turned her attention to him. The rest of the Hellions were coming off the plane and they'd need orders; fast.

"The operators would've moved to the eastern building," Calvin said, "That's the one with the generators. We get there and we defend it, you understand?"

There was a chorus of 'yes sir's and Calvin charged in. Logan took out his claws, scraping against a Sentinel's feet. Anything that got in Calvin's way he punched, a philosophy that most of the Hellions and the X-men who'd come with them were adopting. By the time they'd gotten to the east corridors they'd taken down three Sentinels.

It wasn't enough though. The Sentinels had followed the fleeing workers, and they were almost all crowded around the last building. The only thing keeping them from destroying the building were the distractions offered by the Hellions. He saw Psylocke and Thunderbird ripping into them, swords and fists flashing. High in the sky Sunfire was making her rounds, trying to melt the Sentinels into submission.

Even as he watched she was hit with a beam of red light. He saw her crash to the ground, her body broken. Sasquatch hurried up, placing her hand on Sunfire's pulse, her face hopeless. She shook her head at Calvin. He felt a lump in his throat as he hurried on, knowing that he'd lost a Hellion.

As the relief force cut its way to join the defenders Calvin saw Psylocke sigh in relief. She immediately paired up with Colossus and the two ran over to a Sentinel. Calvin bypassed them both to reach Thunderbird. He'd been taken back to the base for treatment of his injuries, but he'd apparently decided to forget about them in favor of helping the defenders.

Fresh blood stained his bandages and sweat beaded on his forehead. Calvin saw that he wasn't going to last much longer. Then again, if they didn't successfully fight off the Sentinels, none of them were going to last very long. He supposed that Thunderbird had decided, with his usual straightforward logic, that he'd rather die fighting than in a hospital bed. It seemed like him.

"What's the situation?" asked Calvin.

"Beyond a shitstorm?" Thunderbird asked.

A Sentinel shot a beam their way. Both of them leapt to the side in order to dodge it.

"Commander Summers is dead," Thunderbird said, "Him and his wife."

"What?" asked Calvin, disbelieving.

Thunderbird nodded before jumping up and pounding into the Sentinel. Calvin followed after him, feeling disoriented. Christopher had trained them from the start. He'd been the one to select the Hellions, to give them the go aheads before missions, and to appoint them to command positions. Christopher had been such a part of their lives and he theirs that he'd brought his sons into the compound.

Calvin's blood ran cold. His sons. He stepped up to Thunderbird's side to help him rip up the Sentinel's legs.

"What about Alex and Scott?" he asked, "What about the Commander's sons? Did he bring them here?"

Thunderbird hesitated.

"They're alive," he said, "But Alex…he's not going to be the same. Mimic...it wasn't a clean way that the Commander and his wife died, not by any means, and Alex was right in the thick of it. Him and his brother are lucky to be alive."

Calvin winced. It appeared that children were always suffered the most from war.

"Where are they now?" he asked.

Thunderbird jerked his head towards the building behind them.

"Well then," Calvin said, "It looks like we need to finish these things off."

Thunderbird grunted in agreement. Calvin made a gesture to Thunderbird to follow him. Keeping his speed up Calvin ran some distance away from the Sentinel. Thunderbird followed, looking confused. Calvin cracked his neck and gestured at the Sentinel. When Thunderbird grinned he knew he'd gotten it.

"Let's do this," he said.

The two of them ran towards the Sentinel, picking up speed as they went. By the time they reached the Sentinel they were at their top speeds. Together Calvin's metal form and Thunderbird's hulking form hit the Sentinel in the leg. The Sentinel tottered and fell backwards, hitting the ground.

Thunderbird rushed up, jumping into the air. He brought his fist down into one of the Sentinel's eyes. Sparks filled the air and Thunderbird was thrown back. Calvin rushed to his side, taking inventory. The bandages were now soaked with blood. He suspected that Thunderbird's arm was broken as well.

"Sasquatch!" he yelled.

"I'm good," Thunderbird wheezed.

"Sasquatch!" Calvin yelled again.

Sasquatch lumbered up, still in her combat form. She took one look at Thunderbird and shook her head.

"Jesus, what did you do to yourself?" she asked.

"Been busy," Thunderbird said.

Sasquatch lifted him up, careful of his injuries.

"You're a mess," she said, "I'm getting you inside."

She nodded to Calvin. Convinced that his brother in arms was alright Calvin turned back to the Sentinels. One was lumbering towards the building. He got ready to charge at it until he saw a figure on its shoulder, pounding into its head again and again. The shredding sound was unmistakable even from where he was.

The Sentinel collapsed and Logan jumped off its shoulder. Calvin hurried over to him.

"Need someone else to throw you on Sentinels?" he asked.

Logan cocked his head.

"Would be nice bub," he said, "Climbing up that last one was a pain."

"Alright then," Calvin said.

A Sentinel lumbered up. Logan jerked his head towards it. Calvin grabbed him by the shoulders, still in his metal form, and tossed him up at the approaching Sentinel. The Sentinel put its hand out and Calvin narrowly avoided another blast. At the same time Logan reached its chest, clawing his way up to its face.

There was a ripping noise and another Sentinel found itself without a head. Logan slid down, wiping sweat off his brow and grunting. Calvin watched as his bloodied hands began to heal, not quite recovered from his successive attacks on the Sentinels. The broken shards of bone made Calvin wince.

Logan caught him staring and shrugged.

"It's just like breaking a bone bub," he said, "Only you don't run the risk of having to break it and reset it."

Calvin winced again and Logan laughed. He looked over at another Sentinel that was going around the back of the building. There wasn't anyone back there. Logan took off running and Calvin followed him. He passed by the other Hellions, each engaged with their own battles with Sentinels. Two more had arrived, and the Hellions had mobilized to back them up.

Another Sentinel went down near them, causing them to jump out of the way. The Hellions were doing good work. Calvin could already see that the number of Sentinels were dwindling. They could win this, but even then it would be a small victory. Their Commander was dead and their base all but destroyed. Few would be able to stay behind and try to get it into working order.

They turned around the building, following after the Sentinel. They turned a corner to find that it was moving into formation with two other Sentinels. Another metallic grating began around the corner. Calvin looked over his shoulders. Two other Sentinels had arrived to support the first three.

Logan looked between them and the others, his eyes narrow and calculating. He inclined his head towards Calvin, who shook his head. There was no way he could throw him fast enough to get all of them. Logan probably didn't even have time to climb one.

All of them held out their arms, their lasers glowing. Calvin whirled around, looking for an escape route, only to see three more Sentinels approaching. How could they have possibly garnered that much attention? The question was irrelevant though. They were hemmed in on all sides. Calvin turned back to Logan, whose jaw was set and his face was grim.

His eyes were on Calvin, a question there. Calvin knew what it was going to be. Logan's healing factor was seemingly limitless. Being hit with sixteen searing beams of heat might be what undid it though. They couldn't know otherwise. It dissolved everyone else, and there'd been theories that Logan wouldn't be able to form himself back together if he got his head cut off.

There was no question of Calvin surviving what was about to happen though. His healing factor was only half as strong as Logan's, and if his survival was doubtful, then Calvin didn't have a chance. He'd be blasted apart by the heat before he'd begin to scab over. The knowledge sank into his stomach with a cold dread. There was only the question now of how he wanted to die.

"Let's take them down," Calvin said.

Logan nodded. They moved around in cross circles, unable to move past the Sentinels but confusing their targeting. Already their palms were moving around, trying to follow them. Even if they didn't get a direct hit they were going to fry though. If they were lucky the blasts would take out most of the Sentinels around them as well. It was thier best shot.

As Calvin got into position he took a deep breath, trying to brace himself for what happened next. Clenching his jaw he shifted his powers. It was difficult for him to use two at a time, nigh on impossible. However, if he concentrated hard, he could just barely use his telepathy. He hoped that it would be enough.

* * *

Emma felt something tickle in the back of her head. In her diamond form she was unable to access her telepathy, but at the same time no one could get into her head. She could still feel when people were trying though, and right now it felt like someone was desperately trying to whisper something to her.

Under normal circumstances she'd get back to what she was doing and try to remember to call back later. It could be a cry for help though. The MRD might have telepaths in Weapon X, but now wasn't the time to quibble. She'd just fight them off if and leave them comatose if they were from Weapon X. So she smashed the Sentinel's foot before moving out of its range so she could listen in safety.

Emma allowed her skin to turn back to flesh.

_Yes? _she thought in the direction that the call had come from.

_Emma?_

_ Calvin? _she thought, frowning, _What's wrong?_

_ In my room in my apartment, if it's still there, there's a diamond ring in the top drawer of my dresser,_ he thought, _ I…I was going to ask Clarice to marry me. I don't have the range to tell her so…please tell her that. _

_ What? _Emma thought, _Tell her yourse-_

She stopped herself in mid-thought, realizing what was going on. She amplified her powers, delving deep into Calvin's mind to see what he saw. She saw him ringed by Sentinels by the back of the building, their lasers powering up. Logan was across from them, the two moving in formation.

Emma began running towards the back of the building, her mind a jumble.

_Calvin, no! You and Logan have to find a way out of there! _she thought, even though she knew there was no way, _You can't-_

_ I really did want to marry her. _

Pain like she'd never felt before pierced her mind, severing the connection. She could practically feel the white-hot lasers burning through her body, dissolving her flesh into ash. Emma screamed and sank to her knees, her hands clutching her head.

Emma didn't know how long she stayed like that, the pain consuming everything and screaming herself hoarse. She was dimly aware that the other Hellions were staring at her. When it finally stopped there were tears running down her face as she got to her feet again.

Stumbling Emma continued running to the back of the building. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Calvin, the man that Clarice loved, had died. His healing factor wasn't strong enough to save him. Even if she'd had her doubts, any slender hpe that he'd survived, she'd felt his mind go. It was like a candle that had been snuffed out. She couldn't imagine telling Clarice what had happened.

Logan would still be alive though. He'd be charred and in an unimaginable amount of pain, but Emma knew that her brother-in-law would still be alive. He was immortal, invincible. He'd survived nearly two hundred years of constant warfare. However, unlike earlier that night she didn't feel as confident as she had when her sister and niece were in the streets. Doubt was there, and it was eating her up.

When she reached the back of the building Emma saw what Calvin and Logan had been trying to do. In shooting them the Sentinels lasers had ended up creating a burning force focused on the two of them that had taken themselves out too, their lasers going haywire. They had certainly succeeded in taking them down, but she knew it would bring little consolation to Clarice.

Emma climbed over the remains of the busted Sentinels, hurrying towards the center where she'd seen Logan and Calvin standing. The ground was blackened and charred to a crisp, not even a blade of grass remaining.

"Logan!" Emma yelled, "Logan!"

There was no reply. As she hurried along the clearing her foot hit something and she felt the heat of it through her shoe. Emma looked down to examine it. When she realized what it was she fell to her knees, turning her hand to diamond and picking up the red-hot piece of metal with trembling hands.

It was Logan's wedding ring. She'd handed it to him during the ceremony, and her memory was impeccable.

"Logan!" she screamed.

There was still no answer. He'd be healed by then if he was still alive, able to at least give a raspy answer. Emma's hands clutched the ground, digging into the soot and her tears watering what she knew to be graves. It appeared that she'd be telling two women that night that the men they loved weren't coming back.


	56. Chapter 56

"The Hellion base is destroyed?" Erik asked.

Charles nodded. Erik rubbed his temples and bowed his head. The news in the past two hours had been good. Of course they were in a bad situation. They still didn't know how the Sentinels had gotten past thier warning systems and how they seemed to keep coming.

However, for the most part the incoming transmissions had been positive. There was still no news of Charles' family, but thier troops were doing well. Only minutes before he'd heard the much anticipated news that Domino, Longshot, and Polaris had made it safely to the hospital. His wife and daughter were safe. Now it appeared that things were taking a turn for the worse.

"It would appear that most of it is gone," he said, "The Sentinels that were sent to attack it have been destroyed, and they're keeping a communication line open but…it's not what it was."

He looked over Erik's shoulder briefly. Erik followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at Clarice, who was helping the operators. Her background as both a warrior and an aide was coming in handy. The action still puzzled Erik, but he didn't say anything. A second later Charles tapped his temples with his fingers. Erik frowned at him, but got ready for the telepath's presence in his mind.

_I heard from Emma that Christopher Summers, Captain Rankin, and Logan are dead, _Charles thought.

Erik's eyes widened, feeling incredulity seep into his head.

_All three of them? _he demanded.

_All three, _Charles thought.

_Wait…wait, _Erik thought, trying to keep his thoughts logical, _Logan's healing factor is amazing. I can't think of anything that could kill him. _

_ Emma showed me how it happened, _Charles thought, _She's one of the last people who'd want to believe it. But apparently there were eight Sentinels and they all used their lasers at the same time. Rankin and Logan managed to them down, but in the process they were killed. _

Erik sat down. Logan had been with them almost from the beginning. He'd been the first mutant that they'd recruited to their cause. He supposed that Victor had been the second, but he'd only come along because Logan was willing to fight. Logan was the first one they'd found who'd decided that it was time to take a stand and fight the powers that be to save their kind.

He'd been an invincible warrior who'd fought time and again. Just when he thought that Logan couldn't possibly take any more punishment, that surely he'd died this time, he got back up, his bones snapping into place. He'd fought with a brutality, but had never been as twisted as his brother. It had been what had allowed him to be grateful for the fruits of their enterprise, to make the transition and become a Genoshan citizen and settle down after the war ended.

Erik looked over at Charles, who seemed to be having the same thoughts.

_He'll be missed, _Erik thought.

_Indeed, _Charles thought, _And his wife and child…_

Erik shook his head.

_I have a feeling there will be many widows and fatherless children before the night is over, _Erik thought, _The MRD is pushing hard. This new attack shows that they're not considering retreating as we hoped. It's midnight and Genosha's still bright with fire._

_ I know, _Charles thought.

He could feel his friend's worry over his own family who still hadn't turned up. Erik was starting to wonder himself if something had happened, but he couldn't let Charles see that his confidence was waning.

_Why tell me this like this? _asked Erik, _It's not encouraging news, but everyone will have to know sooner or later._

Charles glanced over at Clarice.

_I…I happen to know that Clarice and Captain Rankin were together, and have been for several months, _Charles said, _And Emma requested that she be the one to tell her. You know that they're close._

Erik looked over at Clarice briefly. She was moving papers around, trying to corroborate what she was seeing. She had no idea that the man she loved had died on the battlefield. Perhaps it was better to give her a few hours of ignorance before she had to face reality. He nodded to himself before turning back to Charles.

_Understood. _

"Excuse me?"

Both men jumped. Clarice had hurried over, her arms full of papers. She looked distressed, and both men hoped it wasn't about what they thought it was.

"We've been tracking the Sentinel's path," she said.

Erik allowed himself to relax slightly.

"They're pairing off into large groups," Clarice said.

"How large?" asked Charles.

"About thirty," she said, "We think that more are coming in. But they're not just scattered all over Genosha right now. They're aiming for specific targets."

"Which targets?" asked Erik.

Clarice shuffled her papers.

"The opera house for one," she said.

Erik felt his blood chill. Susanna.

"Clarice," he said, "Take me there now."

She blinked at him, her green eyes wide.

"Sir?"

"You heard me!" Erik shouted.

Dropping her papers Clarice began to form a crystal in her hands. He knew it took a few minutes for it to form, but Erik couldn't take his eyes off it. When it was nothing more than a few specks of light Erik moved towards her. From across the way Charles grabbed his arm.

"Don't you dare try and stop me," he snapped.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Charles said, "The cabinet can handle things for a little while. I'm coming with you."

Erik swallowed, nodding his thanks. He watched the crystal grow, feeling a cold feeling begin to possess him.

* * *

Margali looked over at the woman sitting across from her. She knew her name was Kayla. They'd met on occasion before they'd both been consigned to the opera house, fleeing from their burning homes. She'd never seen Kayla's daughter though. She'd heard plenty, but never seen her.

Laura was around two years old. Her hair was growing in dark curls around her head, almost like a halo. She was resting her head on her mother's lap, fast asleep. Kayla had taken the standard issue blanket that she'd been given and draped it around her. One of her hands was on the girl's back, rubbing circles.

In stark contrast Jimaine was wide awake. She wasn't making any noise, she was a quiet child, but her eyes were open. Margali wondered why her little daughter wasn't asleep. Her brother certainly was. She wagered that most children in the building were asleep, too exhausted to keep awake any longer.

For the adults sleep was going to come much later, if it came at all. Exhaustion would claim them in time. For Margali it would be hours before she could sleep, as it always was in a crisis. She'd been a travelling girl since birth and was used to long hours with little rest. Sabu was wide awake next to her as well, their years in one place not dulling their senses.

Margali had originally been born in Germany. Like her mother and her mother's mother, and perhaps all the way back to the first member of their family, she'd been born in a caravan. Jimaine was the first child in their family to be born in a hospital. She was the first child in Sabu's family to be born in a hospital as well. Gypsies often kept closed communities.

Margali's mother had often spoken fondly of Germany. Margali couldn't remember it. Her parents, unlike many of their neighbors, had sensed which way the wind was blowing. In 1932, just a year after Margali had been born, her parents managed to leave the country. They'd struggled and saved, making their way slowly across Europe. One of Margali's first memories was of a train that was taking them to France.

Eventually they'd made their way to America. Margali's father had heard that there was money to be made there. She remembered the crowded streets and the filthy living conditions in the poorer areas of New York City. Her father had managed to find work though, and her mother never stopped reminding her of how lucky she was that this happened and they were no longer in Europe.

She knew her father missed his old life doing magic tricks through the cities though. He taught Margali those tricks, showing her how to make colored explosions and amaze her audience. At the time her audience had been a rag doll, a teddy bear missing an arm, and a wooden horse. It taught her to appreciate responsive audiences later in her life.

Through one of her father's friends he'd found employment in a circus. They'd travelled all across America performing their tricks, and Margali became a performer. Then war had reached America and her father had volunteered. Margali had watched her father leave, wishing that the war were already over and that he could come home again. He never did.

Margali and her mother stayed on with the circus. With Margali's show she was able to contribute, and her mother helped keep the circus in order. When Margali was nineteen she'd married Sabu, with some muttering by some of the women about a young girl taking up with an older man. It had been Margali's mother who'd quelled that talk, showing Margali an intimidation technique that she'd use later in life.

Her mother had died a year later of tuberculosis. Margali had cried and cried, but she'd had Sabu with her. She'd managed to bury her mother near the shore so that she could look across the sea at her father's grave in Europe when she visited.

The next big upset in Margali's life had come two years later during their tour of California. She'd gone out to empty the dregs out of the coffee pot and found an injured, and rather peculiar, boy collapsed outside of their caravan. She had dropped the coffee pot and yelled for her husband. She and Sabu had taken him in, even getting over the mild shock that his name had produced.

Time had moved on from that point. She'd had Stefan and Azazel had left their company. She'd heard very little of him for years until he asked for them to come to Genosha. The circus was doing poorly and Sabu had been injured in a trapeze accident. He was fine, but his act would no longer be the same. Margali decided that it was time for a change, and so she'd moved to Genosha.

She'd never regretted that decision. For four years they'd had a blissful situation. There was always enough food to go around, and Stefan had received a good education. Jimaine had been born in a hospital, the pain of childbirth numbed and the knowledge that she was in the hands of the best a comfort.

Around them the room shuddered. Margali looked up, rocking Jimaine. The metallic creatures outside had been unexpected. However, war and the threat of it had been the seasoning of Margali's childhood. She knew what it was like to run from something that she didn't know, but she also knew what it was to fight it.

The ground rumbled again, this time much stronger. A chandelier trembled. Stefan woke up, as did Laura. Kayla sat bolt upright and Sabu got to his feet. Jimaine began whimpering and Margali looked around her at the rest of the refugees. Others were waking up as the sounds of battle, once distant, grew closer.

Suddenly part of the roof crashed down. It was nowhere near Margali or her family, but the event made her jump. The iron hand moved out of the building, searchlights pouring in. It was quickly yanked back by some of the mutant protectors, but the message was clear. The opera house was directly under attack.

Margali got up as Jimaine began to cry. Another portion of the roof was swept off, spraying wood and plaster onto the refugees. Margali looked up and saw that the giants were surrounding them on all sides. They were trapped in the flimsy barricades of stone, and the sounds of battle were raging all around them. She felt Stefan grab at her hand and Sabu pull her close.

A heap of rubble dumped near them and they moved, pressing away. A door opposite them burst open and men in unfamiliar uniforms poured in. Margali stared at them, moving as far away as she could in the press of people. Two mutants rained down on them from the opera house's next level, struggling with the sheer numbers that they were faced with.

Above them a giant red beam set the north side of the opera house on fire. Margali looked around her, trying to find an exit. No matter how dangerous it was she knew that they needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. As she did the vague thought that she couldn't see Kayla or Laura flitted through her mind. She forgot about it almost as quickly. If they hadn't gotten to safety then it was madness to look for them.

"Sabu, come!" Margali yelled.

He grabbed onto Stefan's hand and hurried towards a side door. From their left another door opened, more soldiers coming in. Margali whipped her head around, but the soldiers had already taken aim. The sound of bullets exploded in her ears and she saw Sabu fall next to her, his hand letting go of Stefan's.

Margali knew that he was dead. He'd never let go of his son's hand, abandoning him to the firing range of soldiers, if he still had a scrap of life in him. She saw another soldier take aim. Margali didn't know who the bullet was meant for. She wasn't close enough to tell. It might have been her, Stefan, or someone else.

It didn't matter. War had been in the wind and now it had come. Her mother's warnings, her father's sacrifice, Sabu's sacrifice, the sacrifice Azazel could be making at that very moment, it had all come down to this. She wasn't much, especially when there was no exit and nowhere to run, but she was a mother first. Margali was willing to make that sacrifice, but she wasn't willing to see her children make it.

She grabbed Stefan and yanked him forwards with her. She felt the bullets pierce her shoulder and back, ripping into her. Margali pulled Stefan down with her behind the pile of rubble, Jimaine still in her arms. She didn't know if the injuries were life-threatening or not, but she knew she was having trouble breathing.

"Stefan," she managed, "Stefan!"

Her son turned to her, a look of horrified panic in his face.

"Stefan, you listen to me now!" Margali hissed.

She saw some clarity enter into her son's face and he nodded.

"We are hidden now," Margali said, "Stay…stay hidden. When you see escape…take sister…take sister and run. Understand?"

Stefan nodded, his eyes wide. He pulled himself closer to her and Margali wrapped her arms around him. She tasted something metallic and nodded.

"Good Stefan," she said, "Now…we wait."


	57. Chapter 57

Emma wondered when she had become the grim reaper's messenger. It had taken some time for her to collect herself well enough to leave the area where Calvin and Logan had died. She could have left earlier, but she wouldn't allow herself to be carried. Emma couldn't stand the looks she was being given when she was on her knees and digging her hands into the earth. If someone had to carry her the pity would be unbearable.

She'd stumbled into a bathroom and washed her face to try and focus. Afterwards she'd stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, taking in her clothes. They were filthy, but beneath it all it was white. She'd read that death would wear a white crown, ride a pale horse, and that hell would follow them. She didn't believe in coincidences, but she knew that the thought was unusual. Even so she also knew that she wasn't all there. Emma was sure that that meant that she could have her strange fancies from time to time.

Without her strange fancies she knew she was still a messenger of death. She carried with her the news that two men had died in a blaze of glory defending their homeland. They weren't just any men though; they were the lover of her closest friend and her brother-in-law, the husband of her sister and father of her niece. It was cruel that she was the first one to possess this knowledge.

At the same time, she had to be the one to tell them. She couldn't pawn off the responsibility to Charles or Erik. Clarice would be heartbroken enough without someone familiar there to comfort her. Emma wasn't sure if it would help or hurt her that Calvin had shared the same dreams of their future as she had, ones where they were married and starting a life together. If his apartment was still standing then that ring would serve as a constant reminder.

And then there was Kayla. She was Emma's sister, a woman that deserved nothing but happiness after their tumultuous life. She'd fought and clawed her way to a place where she could do the job and have the family she'd always wanted. Logan had worked to make himself worthy of her and Emma could appreciate that as well as his devotion. She only wished that she'd recognized that much sooner than she had.

Now she had to tell her that she was a widow and her child would grow up fatherless. Again, it had to come from Emma. She might not believe it otherwise, it was Logan after all, and Emma knew that denial would only hurt her. She owed Kayla that, just like she owed her everything else.

She only fully realized her messenger status when she charged into the opera house, fresh from the battlefield of the Hellion's base. The site had been secured again, although their communication had been crippled considerably. It would hurt the war effort, but Emma had to move on. She wasn't technological. She was a soldier and, now that the opera house was the scene of the next Sentinel strike, she had to go there.

Emma had heard that Magneto and the Professor were coming. She'd winced when she heard that. Just like the rest of the X-men she recognized the codenames for Erik and Charles. Things had to be pretty bad at the opera house for the King and the Prime Minister to be coming. Already she felt like she was back in the war, but there was more to lose.

Sentinels were clustered around the opera house. Emma would've liked to destroy a couple of them, some kind of revenge for what they'd done. However, there were heavy hitters that were more equipped to dealing with them than she was. Emma was better at fighting things with a mind.

The opera house's roof had been crushed. Emma could see flames leaping up from the building. Only a handful of Genoshans had made it out. None of them were her sister or niece. She couldn't even see the Szardos family. Squaring her shoulders she turned herself into diamond and raced into the building.

Emma had only been there a few minutes when she found the bodies of Margali and Sabu Szardos. She'd nearly tripped over Sabu and she'd had to stop and stare. She'd taken in a harsh breath, realizing that they hadn't been killed by falling rubble. They'd been shot. The MRD wasn't taking prisoners anymore.

She looked around for their children, not finding their bodies and hoping that they were still alive. She found Stefan a few feet away, trying to make his way towards the exit. Emma almost missed him; hiding behind the rubble with his baby sister. He was covered in blood and at first she was worried that he was injured. It took Emma a few minutes to realize it was his mother's.

After securing the area Emma managed to calm his mind to the point where they could remove him. Now there were more deaths, another message, one that she would have to carry to Azazel. The people who'd taken him in when the rest of the world had reviled him were dead. The burden of deaths began to pile up inside her as she realized that she'd be delivering bad news to every person she'd ever cared about.

Feeling shame and trepidation at what the future would bring, she began combing through the remains. Any soldiers foolish enough to approach death's messenger found their minds invaded and their worst nightmares coming true. She didn't even think of being gentle. Emma had to find her sister and niece in that hellhole in order to tell them that their husband and father was dead. They didn't deserve her consideration.

* * *

Kayla's eyes opened, feeling groggy. There was a pain in her abdomen like she'd never felt before and she could feel that her body was trapped by something. Every breath hurt, like it was being taken in through a filter of knives. The air was thick with smoke and soot as well, nearly making her choke.

She looked down. The bullet wounds in her torso explained the pain she felt, a growing puddle of blood spreading out beneath her. A large pile of roofing trapped her legs, pinning her in place. She tried to move her legs, but they screamed in protest. Kayla decided to leave them for the moment.

In front of her she saw an MRD soldier who'd been killed by the falling ceiling. It gave her a grim satisfaction that the Sentinels had, at least in a small way, backfired on their creators. He was blocking her vision though and she pushed herself up, gritting her teeth against the pain. Once he was within her reach she pushed him out of the way, trying to get a clear view of what had once been their sanctuary.

Most of the building was on fire. She could see MRD soldiers locked in combat with what looked like a mixture of X-men and Hellions. There were a few other military branches as well but she could see the Special Forces among them. A few civilians were being escorted out and Kayla bit her lip and tried to pull herself out. Once again she was met with little success.

She did manage to maneuver herself so that she got a better vantage point though.

"Laura?" she called.

The word felt like a stab to her chest. Kayla began coughing, spitting blood onto the rock beneath her. She still scanned the area around her, knowing that her daughter wouldn't wander far. Laura always stayed close to her. She finally found her a few yards away, her body still and unmoving. Fear rose in Kayla's throat as she fought against the rubble, defying her crushed legs.

An MRD soldier hurried over. He crouched by Laura before nodding to himself and beginning to put a collar around her neck. Kayla swallowed and looked around. The soldier's actions meant a few things. First of all, her daughter was alive. They wouldn't have bothered with her if she wasn't.

The second thing was that he was trying to take her daughter from her. She didn't know why, out of all the Genoshans that they'd shot when they came in, the soldier had suddenly decided to zero in on her daughter and take her. It didn't make any sense, and everything the MRD did made sense in their own sick way. All she knew was that she wasn't going to let him.

Her hands searched the dead MRD soldier in front of her. The soldiers were armed to the teeth and, although his main gun was missing, she was sure that he'd have a smaller one. They always had in the past, the gun that had shot her the night she'd lost Emma. Kayla coughed, the exertions of her motions exhausting her. Her fingers trembled but she found a gun in a thigh holster. Kayla took careful aim.

If the MRD soldier had seen her he'd have thought she was just another corpse. In a way they were right. Kayla had just enough mental reserve to realize that her wounds were fatal. They didn't know that she was going to hold onto life for as long as she could if her daughter was threatened.

She pulled the trigger, hitting the soldier in the head. He collapsed, the collar rolling out of his hands and onto the ground. Laura slumped to the floor, still unconscious. Kayla allowed herself to relax for a moment, because though they were still in a burning building, her daughter was safe for the moment. She didn't know how many other people she'd have to shoot though, didn't know how long this was going to continue on.

Another figure ran into the area. This one she recognized though. Emma's hair caught the light of the fire and showed gold. Soot and blood were smeared over her, but she still looked as she always had. She was ethereal in her own way, an angel turned archangel in battle.

Emma kicked over the MRD soldier that Kayla had shot. She knelt down, gathering Laura up in her arms and looking panicked. Kayla wanted to tell her sister there was no need to worry, but instead she coughed blood. She watched as her sister took Laura's pulse, smiling and holding her close afterwards.

Kayla's eyes began to close, the world becoming blurry. She knew what was coming. At least Emma had Laura. That made things better, the bitter pill easier to swallow. She'd take her to her father. Kayla wondered if he'd remember what she'd told him about the moon when he saw their daughter, the only part of her that she'd been able to leave behind. She wondered hazily if he'd call her name and smiled. Of course he would; and she'd hear.

* * *

Emma kissed Laura on the forehead, taking a deep breath of the putrid air. Her niece was unconscious but alive. It was silly to think that she'd be dead. She was Kayla and Logan's daughter. She was made of sterner stuff than those around her. Emma got up, Laura still in her arms. All she had to do now was find Kayla, and she'd be able to show her that her daughter was alright.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps before she spotted her sister. Emma nearly dropped her niece, frozen at the sight. Rubble encased her lower half and blood poured from her upper. Emma felt a lump in her throat as she hurried over. An MRD soldier lay between her and her sister. She turned her leg to diamond kicked him out of the way so she could kneel beside her.

"Máóhkataatoyi," she said.

Kayla's eyes didn't open. A terrible knowledge stole over her and invaded her veins with ice. With a trembling hand Kayla reached out to feel Kayla's pulse. For a moment it hovered above her wrist. Emma gained a little confidence from the slight warmth that emanated from her skin. Then she took a deep breath and grasped it. There was nothing there, not even a flicker of life.

Gasping Emma reached out and felt for her heartbeat. It had to be there, there had to be some sign of life. Despite her fervent prayers there was nothing there either. Emma choked out a sob, the temptation to scream almost overwhelming. She reached out and placed one hand around Kayla's face, the other holding Laura close to her. There would be one less message that she would have to deliver.

She began to take harsh breaths, bowing her head. Tears leaked out of her eyes and flowed onto the ground. Emma could feel her sanity leaking out with them as they watered yet another grave. She shook her head, trying to deny what had happened and what was happening. Emma had fought hard for her sanity, and now it was going along with the sister she'd cherished.

"Máóhkataatoyi," Emma whispered, "What am I supposed to do?"

The answer came back with more clarity than she'd expected. Her sanity stayed, held by a tenuous thread. Emma blinked and looked from Kayla's form to Laura. There were no parents for the girl. Laura didn't know it, but she was very nearly alone in the world. The only one she had left was Emma.

She looked down at Kayla and gasped. The answer was crushing, something she hadn't expected or wanted to hear. How could she do this? She didn't have the skills or the instincts. She'd never planned on taking care of children. Emma wasn't ever going to be completely sane, and she could feel herself sliding backwards to her old condition. How could she take care of a child like that?

However, Emma knew that this decision wasn't up to her. Her sister was dead. Emma couldn't change that. Logan was dead too. That was beyond her control. Emma would never be fully sane, never be fully right and whole. She'd endured and lost too much for that and Emma couldn't change that either.

The only thing she could change was what would happen to Laura. If Clarice and Kayla deserved to hear bad news from someone they knew, someone they loved, then didn't Laura warrant the same consideration? She was so young, she needed to have something in her life that didn't change. Didn't she deserve to be cared for by someone who wasn't a stranger? She did, and only Emma could give her that.

Not only could she give her that, but she could give her her parents. Emma could keep Laura's memories alive of the parents who loved her better than anyone else could. She could share her own memories, and make sure that Laura would never forget her parents. Emma could keep them alive for her.

Crying Emma leaned down and kissed Kayla's forehead. The flames were spreading around them. She needed to get out of there, and she was taking Laura with her. There was no time to take Kayla's body with her. There wasn't anything left of her sister in it anymore, nothing to protect. Emma's face set and she pulled her sanity back up. She needed to stay sane for Laura now.

Before she did though Emma pulled Kayla's wedding ring off her finger. She'd put it in a pouch in her utility belt along with Logan's. The two rings deserved to be together, just like the people they represented were now. When Laura got older she'd give them to her. They were hers. Emma would give her plenty of memories, but physical reminders would be few. She'd give her what she could.

Picking Laura up she hurried away from Kayla's body. She knew that she was still crying, but her eyes were wide open and stared straight ahead. Four soldiers were foolish enough to try to stop her. She glared at them, ripping their minds apart. Emma didn't even slow down as they fell around her.


	58. Chapter 58

"Have you figured out what went wrong with the communication?" asked Morph.

She blinked at him. Moira hadn't expected him to be back so soon.

"You rounded up the last of the guards?" she asked, "Already?"

Morph smirked and leaned against the edge of her desk.

"Yep," he said, "They weren't the best fighters, know what I mean?"

He snorted.

"It was kind of insulting to be honest," he said, "They thought we'd all cower the minute they put us into cells."

She nodded. She'd already heard several former MRD victims proclaim that they would never be caged again.

"They're out of our hair, but I've got some patrols up just in case," he said, "So, do you know what happened with the wavelength?"

Moira shook her head and continued working with the dials.

"No," she said, "It just disappeared. I've got them working on a few other options to try and reestablish communication."

Morph raised an eyebrow.

"And what are you doing?"

She was about to answer when another wave of nausea overtook her. Moira paused, furrowing her brow and fighting to keep her last meal down. She gripped the side of her desk. Morph waited patiently, looking almost like he'd rather be anywhere else except where he was. She couldn't blame him. Watching her experience her pregnancy sickness couldn't be fun, but it was even worse going through it.

When it had passed Moira looked up.

"I figured that this is some kind of command post," Moira said, gesturing around her, "They must have some documents around here. They were very precise about paperwork. I thought I might be able to go through their plans and establish some sort of attack pattern."

"Good thinking," Morph said.

"Thanks," Moira said.

She looked through a few files and sighed.

"Is there anything to eat around here?" she asked.

"After that display?" asked Morph.

Moira gave him an even look. Morph held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay," he said, "Some of the more enterprising people found some of the scumbag's rations. They're trying to rustle up something to eat right now."

He shook his head.

"What is it anyway?" he asked, "Like two in the morning?'

Moira looked down at her watch.

"One thirty," she said.

From across the way a young teenager raised his hand. His other hand was touching the radio, struggling to work on the waves. The two other mutants they'd found with technological powers were sitting next to him, both of their hands on the radio. He seemed to be the only one conscious enough to speak.

Moira got up and walked over to them.

"Vincent, right?" she asked.

Vincent nodded his head.

"We think we found the right wavelength miss," he said, his words halting, "But we're not sure. Just thought we'd tell you."

"Why do you think it's the right one?" she asked.

Vincent bit his lip.

"It sort of…feels familiar."

Moira looked over at Morph. She hadn't worked with many mutants with technological powers. She only knew three things about them. The first was that they were exceedingly rare. Like teleporters the quirk in the X-gene that produced them was complicated and happened once in a blue moon. Charles had tried to explain it to her once, but she'd lost the thread of the conversation after ten minutes.

The second was that it generally took more than one to do anything long distance. It was why they had three of them working on one machine. Alone they might be able to turn the TV off from the other side of the room or have the vacuum cleaner clean the house while they sat down. Something as complicated as radio waves and messaging required much more concentration and finesse.

The third was their strange way of 'feeling' a situation. If Vincent said that the wavelength felt familiar, then it probably was a Genoshan broadcast.

"Can you get into contact with it?" asked Moira.

"Yeah…but it'll take some time," he said, "And a lot of effort."

The unspoken requirement was that they be left alone. Moira nodded.

"Alright," she said, "The passcode is 8658042308259. After that you'll get an operator. Call me over then."

Vincent nodded. He turned his attention back to the machine, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was out for the count. Moira walked back to her own area, sitting down with great care. The baby had begun kicking, but not enough to cause nausea. If anything she was getting hungrier.

A few minutes later Morph came up with coffee and what looked like a tin can full of gumbo. A plastic fork had been stuck in it. Moira took a bite and frowned. It wasn't bad, but it certainly didn't taste like gumbo.

"What's in this?" she asked.

Morph shrugged.

"I heard they just ended up dumping all the ration packets into a pot and heating it up," Morph said, "Certainly makes it calorific."

Moira nodded, taking another spoonful. She couldn't afford to be picky. Next to her Morph hesitated for a minute, cradling his own cup of coffee.

"Do you wonder what it's like out there?" he asked.

She paused, looking up at him. He breathed out slowly.

"I'm not saying that it isn't bad being trapped in here without any sort of contact," he said, "And it was bad when we were captured. But we've got food and rest right now. For some reason I don't think they've got that."

Moira paused, taking another bite of her food.

"Morph," she said, her voice low, "I'm a married woman with two young children. All of them are out there."

Her voice choked.

"I can't afford to think too much about that right now," she said, "I'd never be able to keep going if I did."

She looked up at him. Morph nodded slowly.

"I understand," he said.

* * *

The air back in the neighborhood had been stifling. The heat from the flames had been overpowering. Rahne's ears had been killing her from the noises and her nose had been on sensory overload. She'd seen far too much there, but the only color she'd been able to make out was the orange of the flames.

The forest was the complete opposite of her old neighborhood. There were no crickets chirping and the only sounds were the distant sounds of battle. The earth still shook from the giants' steps, but the tremors weren't as strong. Not even the flames seemed to do much more than cast a dull glow in the forest.

However, in the forest it was cool, very nearly chilly. Rahne had taken out David's baby blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, tying it in front to secure it. She tucked David beneath it, holding him tightly. She counted on the heat of her body and the protection of the blanket to keep him warm.

Somewhere in the past hour or so he'd fallen asleep, his hands firmly in his mouth and drool running down his chin. Rahne wasn't sure how long ago that had been. Time had slowed to a crawl and Rahne didn't even know if she was headed in the right direction. She'd started following the northern star since the Institute was north. She still didn't know if she had it right.

Everything ached. Her legs were tired from walking so long. Rahne had abandoned her shoes so she could move faster with her paws, but that meant that every stick and stone pierced her feet. Her back hurt and David's baby bag banged continuously against her side. She could feel her arms tremble under the strain of carrying David. He'd never seemed so heavy and she'd never seemed so tired.

When she'd run from her birth father's house she'd been running for herself and herself alone. She'd shifted into a wolf a few steps from the house and galloped down the street. Rahne had been far away by the next morning. She'd also been almost out of food and sleeping under a dumpster, still shifted into a wolf. She'd been far away though, and that had been what had mattered at the time.

Rahne wished for that speed and distance again. However, humans had thumbs and wolves didn't. As long as that fact remained then she couldn't shift. It was awkward moving with only one part of her body shifted, but it was the only way. She couldn't run like a wolf and carry David at the same time.

From somewhere behidn her a stick broke, the sound shattering the peaceful night. Rahne's ears perked up, instinctively shifting to a wolf's. Her first thought was that it was just an animal like a rabbit, but she knew that wasn't true. All of the animals had done the smart thing and fled the area, just like she'd done. The stick had broken because someone had stepped on it.

Immediately the urge to call out to them took over. She was eleven years old, carrying a baby that she wasn't fully sure that she could protect. Adults sounded like the best thing in the world. Yet, she didn't say anything. Rahne had seen soldiers with the iron giants in her neighborhood. She didn't know if she could trust them and until she knew for sure she needed to stay out of their way.

Another stick snapped. Rahne knew that they were close and she looked around. Once again she was hampered by David. She couldn't get away quickly and if she couldn't get away, then she'd have to hide. Her wolf instincts rebelled at the notion, but there was no other way. She wasn't just a wolf. Rahne was human too, and humans didn't have to act like animals.

At the same time she appreciated that it was her animal nature that was going to save her. There weren't many hiding places around, not with the fire casting a dim light over her surroundings. More sticks were breaking and Rahne had to shove her panic down so it didn't overwhelm her.

An idea came to her, one she didn't particularly like. Still, she had limited options. She shifted David and took the blanket off her shoulders. Rahne shivered and fashioned the blanket into a sling, tying David to her. Concentrating she shifted her hands into paws, the claws sharp. Her legs were still human but her feet were a wolf's. It was confusing but she kept focused.

Marching up to the nearest tree she dug her claws into it. Rahne hopped up, mindful of David, and got her feet purchase into the tree. She took her paws away from the tree, switching back and forth to climb up the trunk of the tree. Her head hurt and she felt dizzy, but she couldn't afford to let her form slip.

She continued far into the branches, looking for a stable, thick one. Rahne found it near the top and swung herself onto it. Once there she shifted her feet and hands back to normal. She nearly cried with relief from the pain and effort. Rahne pulled her legs in and held David to her, trying not to make a sound.

From under her she heard the underbrush rustle. Rahne peeked down and saw a helmeted soldier. The MRD logo glinted on his helmet and Rahne bit her lip. She'd been right to run. She just had to stay there until they'd passed, and then she could start travelling again. The Institute seemed further away than ever.

David moved in her arms, taking his hands out of his mouth. Rahne looked at him and saw his eyes open and his hands paw at the air. Panic came back in full force. If he cried as he normally did when he woke up, then they'd know that they were up there. Rahne wouldn't be able to get away fast enough. She didn't know how to stop him without making a lot of noise though, and then they'd know anyway.

Rahne put her head on top of his, closing her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she took a gulping breath.

_Please don't cry, _she thought, _Please be quiet. Please, please, please stay quiet David…_

Suddenly the word 'quiet' felt fuzzy in her head. A confused feeling trickled into her head, as though her own words didn't make sense. It was as though something were smoothing it out and turning it over in consideration. A moment later everything became normal, but it left Rahne feeling disoriented. She opened one of her eyes, wondering what had just happened.

David looked up at her, one of his hands back in his mouth and his eyes wide. Rahne kissed his forehead and looked down at the soldiers. She watched them as they moved on. When she couldn't see them anymore she waited for some time more, just in case any were coming or they decided to turn back.

When none did Rahne shifted her feet and hands back into a wolf's and climbed down the tree. It was cold and she had goosebumps but she decided to keep David in his sling. If they had to climb up another tree then she wanted to be prepared.

Rahne looked down at her brother. He was still looking at her with his wide brown eyes. She hesitated, unsure of what had happened.

"Thanks," she said.

Rahne waited, but nothing happened. The fuzzy feeling didn't return and no other feeling asserted itself in her mind. Taking a deep breath she looked up at the sky, finding the northern star. She pointed to it with her finger, figuring out that she'd gotten turned around when she'd come down from the tree. With her bearings straight she continued on her journey.


	59. Chapter 59

No distance had ever seemed longer than the last dash to the opera house. Clarice's powers had gotten them very close, but he and Charles had had to continue on by themselves for the last four blocks. The entire block area had been transformed. She'd have teleported them into a wall if she'd tried to teleport them again. As it was he was having a hard time seeing.

Fighting was thick around them, the street was filled with bodies and rubble. The remains of Sentinels were littered around them. He couldn't take two steps without encountering the bodies of MRD operatives or Genoshans. Any soldier or Sentinel that got in thier way was taken down, if not by him then by Charles.

Even in the state he was in he began to look at the situation from a strategist's point of view. His combed over the battle field. From what he could figure the group of Sentinels had ringed the safe zone, trapping their troops and civilians. They'd pushed in slowly, the soldiers following them to get anyone that the Sentinels missed. With such a concentrated force they'd managed to scythe through the defenses.

Erik felt his heart thudding against his ribcage, his entire being focused on the opera house. He'd had no idea that it was that bad. The building was burning, a slice of hell itself. There was a small group of survivors huddled off to the side behind a wall of sandbags and rubble, guarded by Emma. Two soldiers came near her and fell to the ground, clutching their heads.

His eyes narrowed in on the survivors and began searching as he ran. He looked for Susanna, but didn't see her in the throng. Erik tried to make out Sarah or Samuel, the X-men he'd sent with her. She might not be noticeable, but they'd be. He'd do with any sign, any sign at all, that his wife had made it safely out. Erik didn't find any.

With no sign that she'd made it out it had to mean that she was still inside. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the burning building. He couldn't remember making the conscious decision to go inside. All he knew was that his feet began moving, running towards the building and he didn't even try to stop them.

There was still fighting in the front of the building, the barricades that their soldiers had constructed in tatters. He ignored them and pushed his way through. Charles shouted something behind him, but he didn't pay attention to him either. He could even feel his friend trying to tell him something in his mind, but he continued to ignore him. He needed to get inside.

Some of the Genoshan fighters' eyes widened when they saw him. Soldiers turned when he came but he pushed past them, flinging out his hands and changing the paths of their bullets and dragging the barbed wire from the ruined barricades. A Sentinel walked near his path, its palms raised. Erik concentrated, taking its head off and flinging it to the ground.

At long last he reached the doorway of the building. A blast of hot air and soot met him, almost shoving him back. Erik bent his head, choking from the smoke. He pulled his sleeve around his face and hurried in. He stepped over rubble and tried to avoid the bodies. If he tripped there would be no getting up, and he couldn't fail.

All around him here were signs of a last-ditch defense effort. Genoshans were fighters and many had used their powers to try and protect themselves. Their soldiers had also died fighting, trying to protect their fellow citizens. However, the barrage of rubble, lasers, and bullets had all but overwhelmed them. The reinforcements had their hands full as it was. He couldn't imagine being one of the original defenders.

Erik ran into what had once been the foyer. He remembered the victory celebration that had taken place there after they'd won the revolution. He'd been beside himself that night, looking forward to a future where mutants could finally be safe, where he could send for his family. Erik had been foolish enough to think that the worst of the war was over.

Other images flitted through his mind. The party to commemorate the alliance between Genosha and the United States had been thrown there. Charles had danced with Moira. Even then he'd been suspicious of the growing attraction between his friend and the CIA agent. He'd been right, but it wasn't anything he'd had to worry about. It was an attraction that wouldn't come to fruition for many years, and only when it was safe.

Erik choked on his memories, still moving. He could even remember the ball they'd thrown to celebrate the reunion of families, where Susanna and Lorna had made their debuts as the Queen and Princess of Genosha. Lorna had stayed close to her parents, her bright smile still managing to show through. Susanna had already started to wear roses in her hair, an accessory that she would become famous for.

He went into the main hall. The balconies were in pieces and the roof was open to the sky. Erik knew which one Susanna was supposed to be in and he made his way towards it. There were still a few soldiers in there, their filter masks allowing them to stay longer. Erik couldn't imagine why they would be there, but the very sight of them sent him into a rage. He tightened the metal clasps, choking them.

The stairs were crumbling when he reached them. Erik took them three at a time, trying to reach the top. The woodwork was starting to give way beneath his feet, but he held onto the handrail. He coughed again, the fire still blazing around him. He kept moving fast though, alternating his feet and keeping his steps close to the edge of the stairs.

His mind conjured up a different night, a different fire. It had been the first time he'd heard of the MRD. He'd come home to see men threatening his wife, waving their guns around. As soon as they'd seen him they'd redirected their guns. The fight from there on out had been instinctual. Erik had been confused, but no one threatened his family.

He'd seen Susanna run out of the house holding Lorna. Minutes later one of the MRD operatives had tried to use a stinger grenade. He'd tried to take it apart. Somehow it had gone wrong and the house had ignited. He'd finished the operatives off and gone around the house, collecting important documents. He knew that they would have to run, that they would have to be prepared.

Only when he came out did he realize the implications of what had just happened. He'd just exposed his powers to his wife, shown that on top of everything else she had put up with, he was hunted for his powers. She knew that he wasn't normal. He'd seen her kneeling in the grass, holding their crying daughter. She looked as though the sky had fallen down around her, forcing her to her knees.

The frantic machinations of his brain seemed laughable. He'd stammered over his words, beginning an explanation that began with what he was ended with him begging her to trust him, to stay. He hadn't dared approach her during his supplication, and she'd just stared. For some unfathomable reason she'd stayed, had continued to stay with him through running, abandonment, and cruel treatment. He had to find her.

Erik reached the top of the staircase, panting. He saw the bodies of Sarah and Samuel. Samuel had died from falling masonry, his body crushed beneath plaster and wood. Sarah was a different story. The ground around her was littered with the dead bodies of MRD soldiers. All of them were impaled with her bone daggers. She'd taken many of them down before they'd gotten her.

The fact that she'd had to sacrifice herself at all made his blood run cold. He pushed past the corpses into the balcony box. For a minute he couldn't see anything; the fire was spreading and the smoke was thick. Then he heard a faint choking noise. Pushing away chairs and benches he saw Susanna towards the front of the box, bleeding from her abdomen and head.

Erik rushed to her side, picking her up and cradling her in his arms.

"Susanna!" he yelled.

Her eyes fluttered open. They rolled around, trying to focus. She coughed once, blood splattering his shirt.

"Erik…" she said.

"Shhh," he said, one of his hands ghosting over her forehead, "I'm going to get you out of here. It's going to be alright, understand?"

One of her arms reached upwards. He felt her hand touch his cheek. Erik held her closer, his other hand raising to grasp hers.

"It's going to be alright," he repeated.

"Erik…" she said, "Lorna…"

"She's safe," Erik said.

Susanna's bloodstained lips managed a smile. Erik shifted her, getting ready to pick her up. He had to get her out. She cried out, the sound echoing in his ears. He swallowed. He knew what that meant. If he couldn't carry her without making her injuries worse, then he wouldn't be able to get her out of the building.

He didn't have any other choice though. It was either aggravate her injuries or get her out of a building that was rapidly falling apart.

"Alright," he said, "Alright…this is going to hurt. I'm sorry."

She blinked and he wondered if his words registered. Refusing to accept the implications of that he solidified his grip and got to his feet. Susanna screamed, her hand fisting in his shirt. Erik gritted his teeth He leaned down and kissed his forehead as he began to move.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, "But I have to get you out of here."

She coughed again, much more weakly. This time the blood didn't even splatter, it just began trickling down her chin. Her hand fell from his shirt onto her chest. He began to hurry down the stairs and she cried out with every step. Erik continued to whisper apologies to her, hoping it would be enough. He needed to get her to safety before the opera house fell apart.

"Erik…" she whispered.

"Shhh," he said, "Don't talk right now."

Her head moved from side to side, as though she were trying to shake her head. The gesture incited more coughing and he tightened his grip. There were no more soldiers but the fire continued to spread. Erik continued a few more steps, trying to keep up a fast pace but at the same time not aggravate her injuries. With every step he realized that he was failing.

"Erik…" Susanna said, "Erik…Erik please…stop…"

"I can't," he said, "We need to get out of here."

"Just…one moment…" she said, "Please…Erik…"

Susanna's eyes began to close. He dropped to his knees. Erik knew it was causing her pain, but he had to get her to stay awake. It had the intended affect and her eyes opened as she cried out. Erik began to get up again but her hand clutched at his shirt, stopping him.

"Just a moment…" Susanna said, "Erik…"

He stopped, gulping in air. Susanna's eyes focused on him.

"Lorna," she said.

"She's safe," Erik repeated.

"Lorna…needs you," Susanna said.

He shook his head, denying what he knew she was trying to say.

"She needs you too," he said.

Susanna swallowed. Her lips opened and she coughed again.

"Susanna, please," Erik said.

"Love…you both…" Susanna said, "You came…"

"Of course," he said, "We need to get going."

She shook her head again, her eyelids beginning to close. Erik gripped her shoulders and her eyes opened again.

"No," he said, "No."

He watched her eyes slide back. Erik shook her, desperate to keep her awake. Her eyes managed to focus again and she took a shaky breath. Tears streaked down his face, cutting through the grime that coated him. He cupped her face, pulling it upwards so that it was close to his.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

Susanna smiled. One of her hands reached up, brushing his cheek.

"I've…always said…" she said, "I'd…never leave you. Don't you…know?"

Erik gritted his teeth, his tears falling on her face and washing away the blood.

"I know Susanna," he murmured, "I know."

He leaned down and kissed her, his eyes closed. Her lips moved under his. She tasted like blood and fire. His own tears continued to wash her face as he held her close. Susanna's lips stilled under his and he pulled away. Erik kept his eyes closed as he touched his forehead to hers, unable to face the inevitable.

* * *

"Let go!"

"Charles," Emma said, "No."

He glared at her, her diamond form keeping her safe from his mental demands that he be allowed to go after Erik. She glared back, holding his arms tightly. He couldn't even begin to match her strength. A few of the soldiers and civilians were staring, recognizing who he was.

"He can't go in there alone," Charles snapped.

"He just did," Emma said, "And he's got metal bending powers but you're too far behind. I'm a telepath too, and I was nearly helpless in there. You don't have diamond skin. You go in there, you die!"

Charles glared at her again, his breath coming in pants. Suddenly Emma's grip loosened. She let go and stepped away from Charles, her diamond skin disappearing. Her eyes stared straight ahead, wide and frightened. Several of the other onlookers were staring too. Charles turned back to the opera house, following their line of sight. He stopped, his breath frozen in his throat.

Erik walked out of the building, carrying Susanna's limp form. Her hands were tucked neatly on her lap. Blood trickled from the side of her head and her side. Susanna's head leaned against his chest, her chestunt hair spilling down his arm. Erik stared straight ahead.

A few people gasped and turned their gaze to the ground in respect. Charles stepped forward. Erik directed dead eyes to his.

"Not a word Charles," he said, "Not one damned word."

Charles swallowed and stepped back, allowing Erik to walk past him, carrying the remains of his wife.


	60. Chapter 60

Raven had never seen the hospital busier. Everyone was hurrying around, their words shouted and orders barked. She thought back to six, right before her shift ended. Nothing had indicated what the night would bring. She'd planned on catching dinner with Azazel that night before heading home. College was going to start up soon and she'd have little enough time with him when that happened.

Now she felt as though the world had gone mad. Civilians had been crammed into the upper echelons of the hospital, blankets and snacks distributed in a frenzy. Patients were coming in with severe burns and shattered bones. Even though she was only a volunteer who'd never done more than help with a few simple procedures she'd been drafted into surgeries.

With all of the doctors and nurses occupied with the incoming wounded she was left to take care of the civilians. Most of the other volunteers had already gone home for the evening. Raven had organized the canteen workers and janitors to try and take care of the incoming refugees.

Raven walked into another hallway. Doug was by the door, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He'd been put into the care of the Crocker family. She dimly remembered that they did PR for the government in Charles' office and that Carly was one of Rahne's friends. The little girl sat near Doug, murmuring some slight conversation.

She nodded at him as she walked by and Doug gave a small wave. He looked up at her blankly before nodding and looking down at the ground. The lack of stability in his life was astounding. Heather wasn't at the hospital anymore. Raven had been told that she'd been called in to help elsewhere, so Doug was without his guardian. This time Rahne wasn't even there to calm him down.

Carly seemed to be making a valiant attempt. She sat next to him, a blanket draped over her shoulders. The girl was surprisingly calm and she knew that had a good effect on Doug. Rahne had made a good choice when she'd picked her as a friend. Raven smiled at her before passing out the meager rations that made up their evening meal to her parents.

One of the canteen workers rushed past her, pointing downwards. She knew that it meant she was needed in the levels that were still reserved for taking care of the wounded. Raven nodded and hurried downstairs. As she did she walked by one of the storerooms that ringed the stairwell, the only place kept clear of anyone, even though they could use the space.

Anyone who asked would be told it was a closet. Raven knew that it wasn't though, knew that Lorna and her two bodyguards were in it. Safety, security, and common sense proclaimed that no one else could know they were there though. Lorna had to be kept seperate so the hospital didn't become a target. Raven didn't even glance at it as she reached the bottom floor.

She dodged through the crowded hallways to try to find Norton, the head doctor. There had been too many incoming wounded to stick to the surgery rooms, so the hallways were filled with makeshift beds as well.

Raven's feet felt like they were on fire and her back ached. Her ears were filled with the groans of the dying and the screams of frustration from the staff. The lights flickered on and off with the fluctuations in the power grid, disturbed by some far-off battles. It was a familiar picture, one that she thought she'd banished five years before.

Towards the end of the hallway she found Norton. He was there with his son Hank, trying to patch up a soldier who was full of shrapnel. Hank seemed young to be in the line of work that he was, but Raven had been young when she'd started helping out in the hospital. He and his father worked meticulously, the florescent lighting their only means of seeing the shrapnel.

Upon seeing her Norton stepped away from the patient.

"That's the last piece Hank," he said, "You know the drill. It's just a matter of stitching him up now."

"Easy enough," Hank said.

Norton motioned for her to follow him. She did so and he led her to a small corner. He began washing his hands in a sink there.

"I just received intelligence that the opera house fell," he said.

Raven blinked.

"The Sentinels ganged up on it," he said, "There…from what I heard…there weren't that many survivors."

Raven put a hand in front of her mouth, turning her head to the side.

"But from what I heard, and reports are still patchy," Norton said, his voice struggling and tired, "Those that did survive are coming here. It's the closest place. Your brother and the King are leading them."

He wiped his hands and looked back at her.

"Can you organize it?" he said, "I know we're asking a lot, but you're the only one with experience with this sort of thing."

Despite the situation Raven felt a glow of pride at the acknowledgement of her prowess. She didn't let it show though, just nodded.

"I don't know how much room we have," she said, thinking fast, "We're going to have to use the lobby of the first floor and bring the wounded around back. The lobby's the place with the least electricity so we'll have to get some flashlights down there."

"Alright," Norton said.

"Dr. McCoy!" someone at the end of the hall yelled, "You're needed!"

He heaved a sigh before looking over at Raven.

"I'm glad I can count on you," he said.

"I'm on it," Raven said.

He walked away and Raven rushed downstairs. The next half an hour was a flurry of activity. The stairwell offices were being converted into private rooms that would house those that needed to be alone. For the rest they cleared the front lobby and the office there, moving the convalescents into the back room. Soon they'd end up having to use the morgue for the extra space. She shuddered when she thought of that, knowing that it would only do to scare those that were in it. It was already crowded there.

She had managed to get it more or less sorted by the time the new wave of refugees entered. Each one was issued with a blanket and they spread out over the hospital's floor. All of them were filthy and several were coughing, their faces shell-shocked and lost. Raven handed out items, keeping an eye out for her brother. She saw him disappear into a side door and made her way there through the crowd.

Raven knocked, waiting for an answer. She felt something tickle her mind. She supposed it was his way of asking who it was. It certainly saved time. It was only there for a moment before the door opened. Immediately Charles pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. She turned to ask him what was going on, but was interrupted when he hugged her.

She hugged him back, her throat constricting with relief. Everything might have been falling apart, but he was alright. That made it better.

"I'm so glad to see you Raven," he said.

"I'm happy to see you too," Raven said, pulling away a little and smiling, "How're Moira and the kids holding up?"

As soon as the words left her lips she knew something was wrong. Charles looked as though someone had stabbed him. He bowed his head.

"I don't know Raven," he said, "I…I haven't heard or seen of them since I left the house this morning."

Raven gasped and Charles closed his eyes.

"They're alright," Raven said, her words coming out in a rush, "I'm sure they are. You know how resourceful Moira is. I'm sure they're at the Institute or one of the other shelters. It's crazy here, the other places must be bad too, so they probably haven't been able to check-in yet."

Charles nodded and blinked. She thought she saw tears gather in his eyes before he turned away. She heard him sigh as he rested his hands on the desk. Raven swallowed, wondering how many hollow assurances he'd already heard.

"Raven," he said, his voice slow, "Susanna was at the opera house."

She stifled another gasp. Charles looked over his shoulder at her, his face tired.

"Erik managed to find her but...he brought her body out," he said, "He's shut himself in one of the side rooms in the stairwell. He's not listening to me right now. I'll figure out how to get through to him…I'll have to."

He turned around and faced her. Charles looked older than he should, like a man entering middle age instead of someone in their late twenties. She'd always thought he acted older than he was, but now he looked it. He was a man who had the weight of the world pressing down on him. Raven walked up and put her hand on her shoulder. He reached out and grasped it, looking at the floor.

"Raven…no matter what happens tonight," he said, "I want you to stay safe."

"I understand," she said.

She managed a smile.

"But hey," she said, "the darkest hour's just before dawn."

Charles chuckled, although there wasn't any mirth in the expression. There was a knock on the door and Charles looked up. He paused a second, pressing a hand to his temples. Clarice came in, carrying a pile of papers.

"We're getting some dispatches," she said.

He nodded and looked over at Raven. She knew she wasn't needed and, if she stayed, she'd only get in the way. So she kissed his forehead before walking out of the room. She hadn't gone more than a few steps before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Raven."

Raven turned and saw Emma standing behind her, her expression blank. Her jumpsuit was torn and covered in soot and filth. Rust stains were all over her arms and her hair was frizzy and streaked with flecks of soot. In her spare arm she cradled Laura, the girl's head tucked beneath Emma's chin. She took her hand off Raven's shoulder and used it to shift Laura's weight.

"I was wondering if I could ask two favors of you."

Raven looked at her warily. Despite her friendship with Clarice and relationship with Azazel she'd never been friends with Emma. She didn't know what she wanted her to do and there were a million things she was already supposed to be doing.

"I'm busy-" she began.

"First off," Emma interrupted, ignoring her protest, "I'd like you to take Laura here to the third room in the stairwell. I heard there's a little nursery thing they've got going there."

She made a vague gesture with her hand.

"I need to go tell Clarice something before I go out again, and I want Laura to be safe," Emma said, "And don't worry. She won't be any trouble; I've put her to sleep for the next few hours. She'll be quiet."

"You're manipulating a toddler's mind?" asked Raven, disgusted.

"Yeah," Emma said, her voice flat and tired, "I don't like it, but I figured it's better than having her wake up and finding out that both her parents are dead. She deserves some more time before she has to hear that."

Raven's eyes widened.

"Kayla…but Logan-" she began.

"Life's a bitch," Emma said, "Can you do that?"

Raven nodded. Emma passed Laura to her, her hand lingering over her niece's forehead.

"Second," Emma said, "In the room next to that one you're going to find Azazel. He's been teleporting a lot and he's resting for a while. I know the two of you are together, and that it's serious. I know he cares for you."

She nodded again, blushing.

"Margali and Sabu Szardos are dead," Emma said, her voice that same monotone.

Raven bit her lip and looked down. She remembered Azazel's story about how they'd been the first people to acknowledge his humanity.

"He needs someone to comfort him, and he's not letting me or Clarice doing it," Emma said, "You're the only other one he's close to. I know it's a lot to ask, and he might not let you...but can you give it a shot?"

She nodded, feeling the tears in her eyes well up. Emma nodded and began to walk to Charles' office. At the last minute Raven found her voice.

"What…what do you have to tell Clarice?" Raven asked.

Emma sighed.

"Calvin's dead," she said.

Raven's mouth dropped open just as Clarice walked out of Charles' office. Emma sighed again. She turned from Raven and wrapped her arm around Clarice's shoulders, looking more human than Raven had ever seen her. Clarice looked up in surprise as Emma steered her away from the crowds, her voice low. Raven's heart broke with the knowledge of what her friend was about to find out.

She turned away from the two, her hands clenched around Laura's form. The orphaned child felt like she was made of lead as Raven walked to the room Emma had mentioned. Laura would be waking up to a much colder world in a few hours. She saw Stefan and Jimaine Szardos there in the same kind of deep sleep that Laura was in. She supposed that Emma had afforded them the same mercy she'd given her niece.

Raven laid Laura on a cot there and walked out of the room and into the hallway. Azazel's room was nearby. She hesitated in front of the door. Raven knocked but there was no reply. She didn't want to go in. She didn't want to see his grief, wanted to deny the knowledge that everything was falling apart. All she wanted to do was leave the stairwell and go back to organizing canteen workers.

However, it was too late. Raven already knew that everything was already burning. Her brother was out of his mind with worry about his family, even if he wasn't showing it. Erik, the man she'd looked up too, was heartbroken. So many people she knew had died.

Denying the man she loved comfort wouldn't make that knowledge go away. The canteen workers could handle things themselves for an hour or so. Emma was right; he needed her. Steeling herself she opened the door.

The lights were dimmed; only a lamp was on in the corner of the room. Azazel lay on a cot, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. He didn't even look up when Raven closed the door behind her and walked to the side of his cot. She breathed out, folding her hands in front of her. Biting her lip she tried to marshal some words of comfort.

"I do not want to hear," Azazel snapped, the words sudden and biting, "Emma, Clarice, you. I do not want to hear."

Raven's hands were trembling. She couldn't leave him like that. Even though he sounded angry Raven could hear the pain laced in his voice; his attempts to shove people away. She knew he'd try to hide it until it killed him, and she wasn't about to let that happen.

She sat on the edge of his cot, hoping that she knew what she was doing but knowing it was a risk. Raven laid down next to him, kissing him briefly on the lips before she put her head on the pillow next to his. She could feel him stiffen in surprise as she wrapped her arms around him. His body was unresponsive in her arms, and for a minute she thought she'd been wrong.

Then his head moved down so that it was buried in the crook of her neck. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, crushing her to him. Raven was close enough to feel his heartbeat, heavy and erratic. His breathing was the same, choked and hot on her neck. There were no tears though. She knew they would come though.


	61. Chapter 61

Charles swallowed before ascending the final steps. He closed his eyes before knocking on the door, each rap more hesitant than the last. He knew he wasn't going to get a response, but that he knew he should do it for courtesy's sake. Charles knew that he couldn't even begin to fathom what his friend was going through.

Susanna had been a light amidst the darkness that had consumed Erik's early life. That same darkness had cloaked him when Charles had met him, something that had been whittled down through the years. It would always exist though, and Susanna had vowed that no matter what he did she would never give up on him. He could only imagine what that had meant to his friend.

Now the choice had been made for her, and her death had not been peaceful. Under normal circumstances Charles would wait longer before trying to talk to him. Susanna had only died an hour or so ago, her body just starting to grow cold.

However, they weren't in a normal situation. They weren't normal people. He was the Prime Minister and Erik was King. They were responsible for a country. The Sentinels were still out there and he needed Erik to help him rally the Genoshan troops.

He opened the door, closing it quietly behind him. Susanna had been laid out on a cot, her dark hair forming a cushion for her head. Her hands had been folded in her lap and a blanket had been put around her to cover up the blood stains. He could still see the dark scar on teh side of her head, but it was faint. Her dress spilled down the side, peeking out from under the blanket. It reminded Charles of the tomb effigies he'd seen of the Kings and Queens of England had in Westminster Abby. It was fitting.

Erik sat beside her, his hands folded and his head bowed. Charles took a seat beside him, allowing the silence to wash over him.

"What do you want?" Erik asked at last.

Charles closed his eyes. It wasn't an auspicious start.

"We're in a war Erik," he said.

Erik didn't respond. Charles shook his head and looked over at his friend.

"I know you loved her Erik-" Charles began.

"Don't."

"But you can't just shut down like this-"

"I said don't."

"There's a country out there that's depending on you to-"

"I said don't!"

A metal tray in the corner of the room bent and the desk in the corner of the room crunched in. A few pens flew around the room, stabbing themselves into the woodwork beneath the window. Charles winced and looked back at Erik, whose fists were clenched and his eyes livid.

"Erik…" Charles tried.

"Leave," Erik said.

He shook his head.

"I'm not leaving Erik," Charles said, struggling to keep his voice calm, "I understand your grieving and I wish I could give you time to do so."

Erik snorted.

"You wish you could give me time to grieve?" he said, "Stop sounding so pious Charles. Don't act like you understand what I'm feeling."

Charles folded his hands.

"You're right," he said, "I don't know what it's like to lose my wife."

The words were dry and leaden in his mouth. A nasty voice in the back of his head told him that, with the way things were going, if he waited a few more hours then he'd know. And if he lost Moira then he'd lose the child she carried before they got the chance to live. Charles shook the thoughts away, pushing them down along with every other terrible thought that had come upon him in the last nine hours.

"No," Erik said, "You don't."

"I don't," Charles repeated, "But I know that you're grieving. But we need to concentrate on defending ourselves."

Erik laughed, the sound bitter and disbelieving.

"I told you to leave Charles," he said, "I don't want to have to enforce it."

"But-"

"Leave!"

From somewhere a rush of anger arose, consuming him like a fire. Charles got up, pushing his chair out of the way.

"That's just great Erik," Charles said, "Just go on and give up."

Erik looked up for the first time, his face angry.

"I'm not giving up!"

"Well you could've fooled me!" Charles snapped.

Erik rose to his feet, his eyes boring into Charles. He was a few inches taller than him, but Charles glared back in defiance.

"Do you have any idea what's going on out there?" Charles said, "Any idea at all? You're not the only one who's lost someone they care about. Genosha's filled with people who've lost children and friends, lovers and siblings-"

"Don't you dare look at me and say that I don't know what's going on," Erik snapped, "You're the one who doesn't understand-"

"Don't I?" Charles said.

He clenched his hands into fists.

"Erik, do you have any idea what today has been like for me? I have no idea where my wife and children are," he said, "Everyone keeps talking about how they're probably safe, probably this, probably that."

He shook his head, the next words feeling like bile in his mouth.

"What they're forgetting is that, in all probability, they were in our house when the Sentinels came. Rahne wasn't in school and Moira was off work," Charles said, "In all probability they were killed before they knew what was happening. And after the Sentinels the area was swarming with MRD operatives. Best case scenario is that they were captured by the MRD."

Charles laughed, a bitter, choked sound.

"But the thing is, I don't think that happened," he said, "Because they would've made demands by now if they knew they had the Prime Minister's family. And do you know what?"

He took a step forward, his jaw clenched.

"With all this fire and rubble there may be no remains. I may never even know what happened to them," Charles said, each word spat out, "And the thing is that I'll never give up hope that they're still alive somewhere, even though I know deep inside me that they're probably not. And I will never stop looking for them. And I have known this. For. Nine. Hours."

Erik stared at him, not cowed but he was listening. He shook his head.

"But I haven't run out into the night yet, haven't collapsed, because at the beginning of those hours someone reminded me that I have a duty that I have to fulfill," Charles said, closing his eyes, "I became this country's Prime Minister and I damn well took an oath to protect it to the best of my abilities. It's a dream, one that you shared, the promise of a future where mutants would be safe."

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing hard. Charles opened his eyes.

"And right now that future is disappearing," he said, "And if you don't get out there and help us fight for it, then what's the point? We were the ones who dared to start that dream, and if we give up on it now, then it was for nothing."

"So that's it?" Erik said, his voice dull, "That's how we justify all those who have died?"

Erik shook his head.

"That's how you justify Susanna's death?" he said, "Because nothing can."

"No," Charles agreed, running a hand through his hair, "It can't. There's no justification for this sort of thing. There's no ultimate answer, and I know neither of us believe in fate. So there's no final word on it."

Charles swallowed.

"But fighting for Genosha is the closest thing you're ever going to have to closure," he said, "It's not revenge Erik, but it's making those deaths mean something. If we give up then their sacrifice means nothing. And you of all people aren't allowed to give up."

His friend turned dull eyes towards him.

"And why is that?" he asked.

Charles knew his friend was lost, floundering in the water for the surface. He felt like that himself, but in the past few hours he'd sipped at the air. He'd known that if he gave up then he'd be crippling any forces that might be saving his country, his dream, his sister, his wife and children. He needed to remind Erik of that.

"Because Lorna is two doors down, alive and well," Charles said, "And if you don't fight for her, if we lose Genosha then…"

He wished he could stop talking, not say words that would only pain his friend, but it was the only way to wake him. Erik needed to know the truth, he needed to know what was at risk.

"…then there's nothing preventing her from having the same childhood that you did," Charles said, "Not a damn thing. That's what she'll inherit; the war, not the dream. She'll have the pain of losing her parents and her freedom. And as time goes by, she'll lose her humanity as well."

Charles shook his head.

"But there won't be any forces coming to her rescue," Charles said, "No one to fight them, because we're it. We were the first people to unify and resist and we could very well be the last. And if that happens then there will be no end for her."

He closed his eyes and thought of Rahne and David. The fate he described for Lorna would become their fate as well if they were still alive. It would even be the fate of his unborn child. He wouldn't let them inherit a future full of terror and torture. Not if he could help it, and he could.

"For any of our children," Charles said.

Erik sat down again, his head in his hands. There was a long silence and Charles prayed that his words had sunk in.

"I'd die before I let that happen," Erik said at last.

Hope blazed in his heart and Charles nodded. Erik looked up at him, the old determination that he associated with his friend there once again.

"I can count you in then?" asked Charles.

Erik nodded, getting to his feet. He leaned on his chair for a moment before approaching Susanna's body. One of his hands touched her throat where a silver rose necklace lay. Charles watched as Erik took it off. He stared at it for a minute before he put it in his pocket. He turned back to Charles, his face set.

"Before we go Charles," Erik said, "There's something that I have to do."

* * *

Lorna looked up at her father, shaking her head.

"No," she said, "Daddy, no."

She hadn't called Erik 'daddy' in years. Grief had made her younger than she already was. Children weren't supposed to be told that their parents were dead when they were eleven. He remembered his own feelings at his mother's death, feelings that were mirrored when his father died mere weeks later. He'd only been a year older than Lorna was.

Erik looked around him, as though for inspiration. No one had had to tell him that his parents were dead. He'd seen his mother shot and his father fall from exhaustion. Since then he'd broken the news of several deaths. He'd never been one for empty platitudes and had tried to refrain from cold comfort. This was his daughter grieving for her mother though, and that changed things considerably.

He'd chosen to tell her in the office that she'd been in for the past two hours. Erik refused to let her see her mother's body. It was too early. Once it was cleaned up and the blood was removed for the funeral he'd let Lorna see her. Now she was struggling with the news. It wouldn't do to go into detail on the manner of her death or for Lorna to see Susanna's injuries.

He knelt before her, his hands taking hers. She was staring at him with tears leaking out of her green eyes. Susanna's eyes.

"I'm sorry Lorna," he said.

Lorna threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest and sobbing. He held her close to him, stroking her hair but staying quiet. He picked her up although he'd told her only a week ago that she was too big to be picked up anymore.

He carried her over to a cot, sitting down and continuing to hold her. They stayed like that for several minutes. He wished he had hours to stay with her and try to assuage her grief, stay until she fell asleep. Charles was right though. The Sentinels were coming, and if he didn't rally the troops then there wouldn't be any future for his daughter.

Gently he pried her away from him and sat her down next to him. Erik put his arm around her shoulders, her head leaning onto her side. She continued to cry, only much more quietly. With his other hand he took Susanna's silver rose necklace from his pocket. He'd made sure there was no blood on it ahead of time, that it was just the way it had been.

"Lorna," he whispered.

She looked up, focusing on the necklace. Lorna stared at it, her eyes shining with tears.

"Your mother had a lot of jewelry," he said, "I know she let you play dress-up with it."

Lorna nodded, her eyes wide.

"But this is her favorite necklace," Erik said, "I gave it to her several years ago for her birthday. Right after you were born. And I know..."

He swallowed.

"...I know that she'd want you to have it," he said.

Lorna didn't say anything as he clasped it around her neck. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before pulling away.

"I have to go Lorna," he said.

She reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt. The gesture reminded him so much of Susanna before she died that he had to swallow.

"I need to protect you. I won't let any harm come to you," he said gently, "You know that, don't you?"

Lorna nodded, still crying.

"That's right," he said, kissing the top of her head, "Do you remember what I said about Kings?"

She looked up, her eyes wide.

"Princesses too," she whispered.

Erik closed his eyes briefly.

"Princesses too," he agreed.


	62. Chapter 62

Moira circled a coordinate on a piece of paper, tapping her pen on the spot. She waved Morph over. Next to her the electronic-oriented mutants were still concentrating on getting thier signal through. They hadn't heard anything from them for a long time. They hadn't even looked up. She was starting to wonder if they were going to get results from them at all.

What she'd found was concrete though, and it was something that needed to be investigated. Someone needed to look into it soon. Morph came over, sipping from his third cup of coffee.

"What's up?" he asked.

"All of these documents keep referring to something called 'Mastermold'," Moira said, "It seems like it's part of this pod system."

"Wait a minute now," Morph said, "We're in portable storage?"

She spread out the blueprint she'd found.

"Looks like," Moira said, "The design is intricate, but at its basest level the whole place was made to be taken apart and put back together. They were anticipating winning and wanted to have a few specimens waiting as well as a lab."

Morph winced.

"Well, what's Mastermold?" he asked.

"Not sure," Moira said, "But there are fifteen different lists of instructions on how to put the prison system together."

She shook her head.

"There're forty on how to assemble Mastermold."

Morph cocked his head at her.

"You really do your homework, don't you?" he asked.

"I swam in the typing pool for most of my CIA career," Moira said, "I was only ever a heavy hitter for the last two years."

"Their loss and Genosha's gain," Morph said, "So is that Mastermold thing around here or elsewhere?"

Moira took out a map. Lines had been drawn through it and they collided on a point fifteen miles west of their position.

"I think it's there," she said, pointing to the point on the map, "I'm not sure what it is, if it's some secret weapon or something else. I haven't found anything in the files that explain what it is that it does."

She shrugged.

"Either way I know I'd feel a lot safer if it wasn't there anymore," Moira said.

"Me too," Morph said.

"I've got it!"

Their heads whipped around to see Vincent, his face alive with jubilation. Sparks of blue electricity flowed around his arm and chest, making his hair stand up straight. The other two mutants were similarly wreathed, their eyes squeezed shut and thier breath coming in short pants. Vincent turned around to face them, his eyes alive and his lips grinning.

"I just got into contact with a Genoshan radio," he said.

* * *

"We've got an alien signal here," one of the operators said.

Charles looked over at them, replacing a document and closing a file. Moving from the hospital back to the Institute had been difficult. Erik had left the Institute as fast as he could to try and save his wife. All he'd managed to do was bring back her remains for burial. Even so Charles knew that it was more than many Genoshans were going to get.

If he'd had any choice in the matter they would've just stayed at the hospital. The Institute had been chosen for a reason though. With the Hellion base destroyed communication was getting more risky. Several secure wavelengths had all but vanished. The equipment at the hospital wasn't outfitted to be the main relay point, and the Institute was. That was where Charles and Erik needed to be.

He walked over to the operator and leaned over their desk.

"Does it have the security code?" asked Charles.

"Yes," the operator said, "But…it's kind of fuzzy and warbly. It's like it's not coming from a main transmission point, or from equipment."

"If it's not coming from equipment, then what's it coming from?" Charles asked.

The operator hesitated before turning back to the machine.

"Probably an electronic-oriented mutant," they said, "They say they have vital information about the collars."

Charles frowned. He made a motion to the operator to get up.

"I'll take it from here," he said.

The operator got up and moved to another machine. Charles put on the headphones and turned the dial up to enhance the frequency. He was familiar with the machines that relayed the information. He'd had to run a few during the revolution. If he ran into a problem then he'd have to call an operator over, but as long as the signal stayed up it would be fine.

"What is your position? Over," he asked.

"Longitude is 6'9, Latitude is 8'0," a voice answered, crackling with static, "The MRD has set up a prison for Genoshan civilians and has been collaring them. We think that the plan was to send us back to labs somewhere else or begin immediately after a Genoshan takeover. Over."

Charles shuddered. It certainly explained a lot.

"And your current condition? Over," he asked.

"Some of the prisoners staged a prison break and freed the rest of us," the voice said, "All MRD operatives have been secured. We're now in control of the base and have been going through the documents and plans."

Charles blinked. He'd known that people were capable of great endeavors, but they certainly had overcome a lot.

"There seems to be an important base at Longitude 7'0 and Latitude 8'1 called Mastermold," the voice continued, "So far the base's purpose is unknown, but the MRD plans are complex. Over."

That didn't sound good. He put two fingers to his temples and relayed the information to Erik. They should've had troops along the coast, but things had gotten so bad in Genosha's interior that they'd been struggling to keep their cities safe. They hadn't had the manpower, and it appeared that they had suffered for it.

_We have, _Erik thought, _But the Genoshans seemed to have done well. _

_ Marvelously well really, _Charles thought back.

"We read you," Charles said, "We'll be sending a team to investigate Mastermold as well as a relief team to your position. Keep us updated if anything changes. You're a credit to your country, all of you. Over."

There was a burst of static and, for a minute Charles thought that they'd severed contact. It surprised him when the voice came back.

"Oh, and two of our members want to check in," the voice continued, "Morph says that he's awaiting orders. Over."

Charles grinned and felt Erik's approval. He remembered the gray mutant well. It explained why he hadn't been fighting with his fellow Hellions. It turned out that he was fighting a smaller, although no less important, battle. He could imagine that the successful prison takeover had been at least instigated by the second-in-command of the Hellions.

His face fell. The thought gave him a rather brutal reminder of the fact that, no, Morph wasn't the second-in-command of the Hellions anymore. He was its leader. Charles would have to send the Hellions there before they could regroup and join a group of the X-men to take out the Mastermold base. He swallowed before adjusting his headphones.

"Tell Morph that Corsair, Mimic, and Patch are down," Charles said, "and that he'll be joined shortly. Over."

He waited a few minutes as the other end relayed the message to Morph. Charles knew that he was going to be devastated by the news. It would be one thing to have one of your superiors die. Now three of his superiors, including the men who had trained him and his friend, had died and left him in charge. Charles could only imagine how staggering the news was.

"He says he understands. Over," the voice said.

_He would, wouldn't he? _thought Erik, _Summers and Logan trained the Hellions well. _

_ And now they've been whittled down to nearly half their numbers, _Charles thought, _Finding Morph is a stroke of luck though. _

_ We could do with some of that right about now, _Erik thought.

"Who is the second check-in?" Charles asked, "Over."

"Muir. Over."

Charles sputtered, his hands clenching the side of the desk so hard that he felt like his fingers would break. His heart skipped a beat and his lungs stop. For a moment all he could do was turn Moira's codename over in his head, letting the sound and meaning of it wash over him. She was alive. She was alive and well and combing through information to help them.

Despite everything he laughed, tears coming to his eyes. It was just so strange and unexpected to be hearing what he thought he never would. Moira was alright. She'd been captured, but she was alright now. He could feel Erik's smile through their bond and Charles let out a deep sigh. He had to collect himself if he wanted to find out more.

And there was more he had to find out.

"Are Infinity and Haller with her?" Charles asked, "Over."

There was some shuffling.

"No. Over."

Charles swallowed a lump in his throat. The news cut through his current state of elation. His wife was safe but his children were missing. He folded his hands and bowed his head in silent prayer for them. They were out there somewhere without Moira. Rahne was a resourceful girl, but Genosha was hell that night. He couldn't imagine a child and a baby getting through it safely.

_Moira's alright Charles. It's what you need to take away from this. _

He jumped in surprise. He'd almost forgotten about the telepathic link between him and Erik. Charles managed a wane smile.

_You're right, _he thought.

"Tell Muir…tell Muir that Infinity and Haller's whereabouts are unknown," he said, "Professor is in place. Over."

He waited for the response.

"Muir understands," the voice said, "Over."

"Right," Charles swallowed, "As I said, we'll be sending a team over to assist you shortly. If you have any more information on Mastermold contact this wavelength again. Be sure to contact us when the team arrives. Over."

"Understood. Over."

The line fizzled out and the connection was severed. Charles took off the headphones and waved the operator over. He passed the headphones to them before he returned to his position by the map, his steps unsteady. Erik came by shortly afterwards, tilting his head at Charles. Charles looked up at him, taking deep breaths and waiting for him to say something.

"I sent the Hellions their marching orders," he said, "The team's going to swing by the prison to pick up Morph and leave a member or two behind. Then they're moving on to Mastermold. Hopefully Moira will be able to tell us more about it before they arrive."

Charles gave him a weak grin.

"She's certainly keeping busy," he said.

Erik shrugged and looked back at the map.

"Aren't we all?" he asked.

* * *

"Now you're crying?" asked Rahne.

David let out another wail. Snorting Rahne sat down on the ground, careless of the dirt and the grass. Her sundress was already ruined adn her skin was streaked with dirt. The braids that her mother had put in her hair that morning had already come undone. Rahne had never cared about getting dirty before that night, but at the moment she didn't even notice it.

She fished around in the baby bag and brought out a bottle. David reached for it and jammed it in his mouth. Rahne watched him take gulp after gulp of the milk. His actions made her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten since lunch and she'd been trudging all night through the woods.

Rahne wasn't just hungry though. She was tired. Her muscles were cramping, causing sharp pains in her limbs. David had somehow managed to fall asleep in her arms but there hadn't been any sleep for her. She'd had to keep moving, mindful of the soldiers that roamed the woods. Several times she'd had to take refuge in the trees while the soldiers passed by beneath her.

She'd also gotten lost. Rahne knew that, even walking, it shouldn't have taken that long to reach the Institute. If she hadn't found the creek that ran around the playground then she'd have been lost in the woods forever. It had also provided her a rather disgusting drink, but she'd drunk from puddles before. She was just grateful for the water.

David finished with the bottle and Rahne tossed it back in the bag. Milky drool dripped down his chin. Rahne snorted again.

"You're a mess," she said.

She took a corner of the baby blanket sling and wiped his mouth.

"There," she said, "All tidy."

Rahne got up again, even though all of her muscles screamed in protest. She knew she wasn't tidy, and doubted if she'd be tidy for a very long time. She didn't care though. All she cared about was getting to someplace where she could sleep and, if she was very lucky, find out about her parents. Eating was the least of her concerns, even if her body said differently.

She took note of the creek and continued walking, ignoring the pains in her legs. The creek was starting to thicken out, moving away from the small trickle that she'd seen earlier. Rahne knew that it meant that she was close. Her bones ached, her hair was a mess, she was hungry, tired, carrying her baby brother, and cold, but the thought warmed her


	63. Chapter 63

"I know what Mastermold is," Moira said.

Morph sat down next to her, putting his eighth cup of coffee down. He'd been told once that his metabolism ran at twice the speed of a normal human's. He'd found out that it actually ran faster than most mutants. From time to time he wondered if he had any metabolism and if, so, why did he have one when he didn't have any organs or bones? It was a mystery.

Vincent coughed from the other end of the room. He'd been getting bulletins along with the other electronic mutants for the past hour. It included bulletins about their current situation, which looked bleak. He was still having a hard time believing that the Hellion base was all but gone, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the chaos in the streets.

He edged the cup away from him and looked over the diagrams that Moira was showing him. Schematics for a giant similar to the ones he'd heard about from Moira and the other prisoners were on it. He'd been caught inside a building, so he'd never seen one himself. He saw the word 'Mastermold' in the corner with a subheading of 'Sentinel'. Morph made a face.

"They certainly do know how to name things," Morph said.

"Apparently," Moira said.

He rested his head on his chin.

"So what is it?" he asked, "And I hope it's not just how they plan on pumping out their bullshit during the attack."

Moira smiled but shook her head, her expression becoming serious.

"No," she said, tapping the diagram, "It looks like it's some sort of manufacturing station for the Sentinels, as well as where their orders are transmitted from. It's why they can move in sync with each other, and I think it's what jammed our early warning systems."

"They've been making these on the island?" he asked, bringing the coffee cup up to his lips and taking a sip.

"Not for very long, probably just since this started" Moira said, "But it explains why they have so many reinforcements. It looks like Mastermold is designed to make eighty of these every hour."

Morph choked on his coffee. He looked over at Moira, his eyes wide.

"Eighty?" he sputtered, "No wonder we're outnumbered. This thing's been cranking them out every hour?"

"I'm not sure, but it does seem to indicate that," Moira said,

"Well I'll be damned," he said.

He paused.

"And so will the rest of Genosha if we don't take this thing apart," he said.

Morph got up, taking the coffee cup with him.

"I just hope we're in time to stop things from getting worse," he said, "See about relaying this information back to command. We're going to need to focus our energy on destroying this."

Moira nodded.

"I'll get Vincent to send a bulletin about it," she said, "You inform the Hellions when they get here."

"Can do," Morph said.

He walked away and stood by the staircase. His coffee had gone cold by that point, but he was drinking it more out of habit than anything else.

"Morph you asshole! How've you been?"

Morph grinned as Psylocke marched through the door, cut up but beaming, followed by Sasquatch and Colossus. He'd known they were coming for an hour, even known when they'd arrived, but the sight of his battalion did wonders for him. It was nice think that something was still solid from the world before the MRD had attacked.

With that in mind he raised his coffee cup at them.

"Chillin'," he said, "MRD's got some comfy cells in their portable prisons."

Psylocke smirked, tossing her head. Morph walked down the mesh stairs of the platform and met them on the ground level. They clapped him on the back and Morph smiled. After everything it was good to see some familiar faces. As he'd often reflected before, when things went to hell you wanted people you could depend on around you.

They broke off into a huddle. He took a closer look at the members of his team. There were gashes on Sasquatches arms and dents in Colossus' skin. Despite her haughty attitude he could tell that Psylocke had been through hell that night as well. Her swords were chipped and dirty, something she never would've allowed under normal circumstances.

It was all too easy to believe that they'd lost their commanders that night.

"So, how many did you bring?" asked Morph.

"Everyone that's left, and we're rendezvousing with some X-men," Sasquatch said, "Thunderbird's healing factor kicked in not a moment too soonand he's back in commission. Took ages to get him down in the first place. Idiot almost died of blood loss."

Sasquatch scratched the back of her neck.

"It's been a rough night," she said.

"I heard," Morph said.

He gestured around them.

"We've got most of the area around here covered, but you never know with these people," he said, "We'll need a few members to hold the fort and make sure the scumbags don't try anything. How bad's Thunderbird?"

Sasquatch made a face.

"I didn't want to put him back on the field, but I didn't have a choice," she said, "He can fight, but not for long."

"Good," Morph said, "I want him and Psylocke here."

"Should've known," Psylocke said.

"Hey, you can fight and you've got some pretty good medical training," Morph said, "I've got a few field splints on some of the people here but something a little more permanent would be nice. Plus…we've got a high profile target if the MRD's smart enough to figure it out."

He jerked his head in Moira's direction. The three of his companions took note of Moira and looked back at him.

"What are odds?" asked Colossus.

"Considering the numbers of Genoshans that are in here?" asked Morph, "It turns out that they're pretty good. Sasquatch, could you get the rest ready to move out? I'll give Thunderbird and Psylocke the low-down on the situation here."

"Sir, with all due respect I'd have to disagree with those choices," Sasquatch said.

Morph cocked his head and frowned. Sasquatch stood firm though, her eyes meeting his. Sasquatch had never been a big talker outside of the medical arena, in which she would go off at dizzying speeds. Her beast form had allowed her to fight well, and it had given her a decent healing factor. She had never been one to question orders in the past.

"Explanation?" he asked.

She scratched the back of her neck.

"Thunderbird is good," she said, "He needs at least an hour before those ribs will heal to the point where he should be walking, and if we get attacked after that he'd be good. Being the idiot that he is he won't stay down, so doing this would be good."

"Alright," Morph said.

"But I think Psylocke should continue to the Mastermold base," she said.

"Hear hear," Psylocke said.

Morph crossed his arms. He didn't want to appear angry, since he wasn't, but he was curious at Sasquatch's suggestion.

"And your reasoning is?" he asked.

Sasquatch gestured at Psylocke.

"We're all beat up sir," she said, "but Psylocke is probably the least injured out of all of us. She was…one of the guards at the Hellion base when the Sentinels swarmed it and she's been there since things began. You haven't been with us very long but Psylocke is the freshest fighter we have and I believe that leaving her behind would be a waste."

Morph nodded.

"That makes sense," he said, "I'm just getting caught up, and I'm open to suggestions after all."

Psylocke grinned and Sasquatch looked relieved.

"This does leave us with the problem of who to leave behind, if not Psylocke," Morph said, "And, going on who's exhausted and who isn't as well as who has medical training…we'd have to leave you behind Sasquatch."

Sasquatch blinked and looked at the gashes on her arms.

"This isn't to punish you," Morph said, "But logically this is what we have to do."

Sasquatch crossed her arms and sighed.

"Point taken and understood sir," she said, "I'm assuming that a few people are injured?"

"Nothing serious," Morph said.

"Alright," Sasquatch said, tapping a claw on her arm, "I'll check around and see about setting up something like an infirmary for them. And it'll be something to use when you rendezvous here on your way back."

"Hell, if we can pull this off we may be good to go," Morph said, "The sooner we get out there the sooner it'll be over."

"What do you mean?" asked Colossus.

Morph grinned.

"Wanna hear what Mastermold is?" he asked.

* * *

"If that's what Mastermold is, then it explains our current predicament," Clarice said.

Clarice nodded. There was something mechanical about her motions, a stiffness that had existed since Emma had told her of Calvin's death at the hospital. Emma had come with them to the Institute along with Azazel. The three of them needed each other's company desperately, although their grief was buried under their work.

Azazel wasn't quite well enough for any long-term teleportation. His exertions earlier in the night had exhausted him. He was building his strength back up, but it wouldn't be what it had been at the beginning of the night. He'd done his job well but he still needed rest.

It was something that Raven had reminded him of right before they left. Charles still wasn't sure how he felt about his sister dating the red mutant, but he supposed that it really didn't matter. Azazel seemed to care for her, and he did make her happy. Besides, Charles was her brother, not her father. Raven was old enough to make her own decisions.

The door opened and Erik walked in. His friend had pulled himself together after the hospital, throwing his energy into the defense of Genosha. Charles hadn't seen Erik so focused since during the revolution ended. He'd known that, in a crisis, he'd be able to count on his friend to see things through to the end. Erik was an implacable tower of strength, something that they both had to be in the present crisis.

And, at the moment, it appeared that Erik was an implacable tower of strength that was grinning. Charles frowned. He'd told him what Mastermold was, hadn't he? Erik knew that their best forces were being sent into an unknown situation and that Sentinels and MRD operatives still roamed the streets. So why would he be grinning?

Without a word Erik grabbed his arm and began dragging him down the hall. Charles opened his mouth and closed it, feeling like a fish.

"Erik, what on earth are you doing?" he asked.

"Being happy for you," Erik said, "I still can be, if you were wondering."

He pulled him through the corridor and down a flight of stairs.

"You mean Moira?" asked Charles.

Erik shook his head as he opened the door to the foyer.

"No," he said, "I don't."

Charles blinked and looked down. In the middle of the foyer, surrounded by X-men, was Rahne. She looked around, her eyes and face bleary with smoke. Her hair had come undone from her pigtails and her sundress was torn. Her shoes were missing and her feet were cut up. A baby bag was on the floor next to her and his eyes were drawn to her arms. A small bundle moved, pawing at the air.

For a minute he just stood, absolutely speechless. His children were standing in the lobby, alive and well. Rahne looked exhausted but she was alright. Even David seemed to be fine despite his size and the danger they had crossed through. The enormity of the situation came crashing down on him, just like it had with Moira. He felt his throat constrict as he watched them, his feet frozen.

Then Rahne looked up at him, her eyes widening.

"Daddy?" she called.

Charles' legs thawed and he hurried down the stairs. He knew he was going too fast, knew he could end up tripping, but he didn't care. He shoved past two of the X-men at the foot of the stairs. Rahne took a few tottering steps towards him.

They met towards the foot of the stairs. He sank to his knees and wrapped both of them in his arms. Rahne started crying, and he began rocking her back and forth, her words coming out in a rush.

"There's all this fire and the house's gone," she said, "And there were these soldiers and David didn't cry so we were okay-"

"Shhh," Charles said, rocking the two of them, "You're here and safe. That's all that matters. Everything's going to be alright."

Rahne looked up at him. One of David's hands swatted at his face and he managed a laugh. It was just so surreal.

"Mom?" asked Rahne.

Charles swallowed.

"She's safe," Charles said, "Not here, but safe. She'll be so happy to hear about you two. You're very brave Rahne."

Rahne nodded, her eyelids drooping as she did so. She was tired; they needed to rest. Charles kissed her on her forehead and picked her up, her brother still in her arms. David let out a cooing noise and Rahne yawned, wrapping the arm that wasn't holding David around his neck. They were heavy, but it was the best burden he'd ever carried.


	64. Chapter 64

Morph gazed at the Mastermold base. The MRD had dug in deep. There were trenches and barriers made of sandbags and barbed wire. Two Sentinels stood guard, high beams coming from their eyes and sweeping over the ground. He resisted the urge to flinch away from them. They were outside of their range, but they couldn't afford to blow their cover.

As he watched the base emitted a churning noise. A few lights switched on and a Sentinel came out of the base and lumbered towards the city. He heard Psylocke swear. He watched the Sentinel go through narrowed eyes. Moira was right; this was their breeding ground.

Morph looked over his shoulder. Dominikos finished setting up the machine gun. It had been stolen from some of the MRD troops at one of the few places they'd managed to dig in long enough to set it up. It had eventually been overpowered and the equipment taken for them. Other guns had been taken from the base that Morph had been imprisoned would serve their purpose.

Beyond that he looked at his troops. As the most senior officer he had command of both battalions. He recognized his fellow Hellions and a scattering of X-men. The rest of the Genoshan forces were concentrated on trying to keep the Hospital and Institute safe. If their current attack didn't go well then Genosha could end up without most of its armed forces. Further attack would make it crumble.

"Everyone," he said, "do you know what this place is?"

They nodded.

"And you know what these things do," he said.

There were more nods. He swallowed.

"Today these things have killed my commanders and captain," he said, "They've killed Hellions and X-men, my friends."

His voice became a hiss.

"And they've killed people who weren't even fighting," he said, "My neighbors. People we meet in the street. And why?"

Morph dug his hands into the dirt.

"Because they can't stand the idea of a world where mutants get to live their lives," he said, "Like we were normal people."

He scoffed.

"Well I say to hell with them," he said, "And how about we go show 'em that hell that they've been giving us for the past ten hours?"

There was a muted chorus of 'yes sir's', although for the sentiment they might've been shouting. Morph nodded and then made a gesture with his hand. Colossus moved off with a group that comprised mainly of X-men. They were going to be their back-up. It fell to Morph's team to provide the distraction and try to divide the attention of the defending MRD troops so the other team could get inside.

"Dominikos, you stay up here," he said, "Operate the guns until the Sentinels get involved. Then you know what to do."

Dominikos nodded.

"As for the rest of you," Morph said, "keep low but make your way forwards as fast as you can. Our goal is to get inside and disable this thing."

He cracked his knuckles.

"Now," he said, "let's get down there and blast 'em to bits. How's that sound?"

"Damn fine sir," Psylocke said.

He chuckled before gesturing to Dominikos and the rest of his group. Dominikos aimed the gun and Morph and his companions burst from the brush, keeping htier heads down. A few MRD soldiers turned to face them, only to be cut down by a line of machine gun fire. Their way was clear to the base, although Morph didn't have much hopes that it would stay that way for long.

True to his prediction the two Sentinels at the entrance lumbered towards the group. Several of the X-men launched themselves at its legs. Morph nearly yelled for Sunfire to distract them, remembering at the last minute that his friend had fallen hours ago. Steeling himself he charged at the second Sentinel, taking his frustration out on the metal creature.

Psylocke stepped next to him and attacked the other leg. From high above them he saw Dominikos abandon his machine gun. Clenching his fists he stomped the ground, causing earthquakes to run up against the soil. The Sentinel fell and Psylocke wasted no time as she charged its head. There was a flash of her charged swords and the Sentinel powered down.

Morph began to concentrate on a wave of soldiers that poured from the base. He saw Psylocke rearrange her swords and the X-men change direction. The rest of their team charged into the soldiers, scything through them towards the base. Another Sentinel came from the base, its palms already raised for attack. He already saw the red light glowing in them.

Dominikos stomped the ground and another tremor took it down. This time Morph took care of the downed giant, his hands glorying in the feel of crushed metal and sparks. His fists split open from the pressure but the skin soon reformed. He didn't have any bones or organs, nothing to break and nothing to damage. It didn't matter what he did to himself.

He looked behind him. Morph could see the film of sweat covered Dominkos' brow. It was taking a great deal out of him to keep up his seismic attacks. Their secondary team would be arriving soon, and Morph hoped it could take some of the pressure off him. They couldn't afford to have such a valuable asset exhaust himself so soon. Not in this fight.

Morph jumped into a nest, taking out the two MRD operatives who were working the machine gun there. He slid to the ground and turned it on the rest of the trenches. He felt bullets thud around him, but he kept firing. There was another tremor, the ground splitting open yards from his position and almost making him lose his grip. Another Sentinel fell to the ground.

He kept going until the bullets ran out. Then he picked himself up and pressed onwards. Most of the trenches were empty now, but a Sentinel was coming from the inside of the base. Psylocke appeared at his elbow, her swords blazing with magenta light. She stabbed into its leg and Morph punched into the other. Once more he felt the pure destruction of the machines wrap around him. It was a glorious feeling.

With that Sentinel down the two of them hurried inside. The area was well-lit; the fluorescent lights making his head hurt after the dim light cast by all of the fires. The portable assembly area was sleek and metallic, a conveyor belt on the far side and electronic parts hanging from the ceiling. Several scientists were milling about, their fingers clicking away on the control board.

He was struck by the familiarity of the sight. It was just like taking down any other MRD base. Admittedly there were Sentinels being produced this time and no prisoners to free, but the idea was the same. He looked over at Psylocke, who from the look in her eyes was apparently thinking the same thing. She grinned at him and brandished her swords.

She kicked a scientist out of the way and Morph lunged for the one at the controls. The man pressed a button when he saw Morph coming for him. Morph punched the man's companion to the ground just as a whirring noise began, lights flashing on teh switchboard. He grabbed the front of the scientist's coat and hoisted him into the air.

"What did you just do?" he demanded.

Unlike most MRD scientists Morph had encountered the man didn't fold at the first sign of death. Instead he glared at Morph and spat at him. Morph paused for a second, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, you think you're better than me," he said, "That's it. You know, right now I'd love to be the better man here and just tie you up or something. You know, like I was going to do a few minutes ago."

He shoved him to the floor, hearing him cry out. It didn't give him any pleasure, but it did give him a sense of satisfaction. Morph twisted the man's arms behind his back, being as rough with the cuffs as he could. He heard the man's wrists twist and he cried out again. With a little pressure he heard something pop. Morph turned him around so he could face him.

"But you and yours have killed far too many of me and mine today," he said.

Morph kicked him in the head, breaking a tooth and putting him under. He saw that the rest of their team was pouring in, preventing anyone from escaping. Mastermold was still working though, and they'd come to shut it down. Now that the rest were taking care of the scientists and soldiers, he could get moving on thier real mission.

Morph looked at the control panel in front of him and swore. It was far beyond his comprehension. He growled in frustration and moved around the dials. There was no reaction from the machines around him. They continued to produce a Sentinel, which some other members of his team were taking out before it could power up. It never hurt to be cautious.

He ripped up the paneling, grabbing a knife from his belt and cutting wires. When all else failed he'd been taught to destroy the machinery that was the starting point. Morph finished with the panel and looked up. The machines were still going. He shook his head and tapped his earpiece, turning on the radio. He waited for a few tense seconds before there was an answer.

"Muir here. Over."

It looked like they'd been able to lock their wavelength in. He smiled grimly.

"This is Morph," he said, "I've taken out the panels but it's still working. Over."

Morph waited as he ripped up the remaining panels. Nothing changed. The other troops were noticing this too and looking to him for instructions. He tapped his earpiece and they nodded. He hoped that Moira would dig up something for them soon. They were too close to their objective and in too critical of a situation to accept failure.

"There's a generator at the bottom of the design," Moira said, "It's incredibly complex, but you need to rearrange several of the panels. It's going to have to be seamless Morph, seal up the pressure, otherwise it's just going to keep churning these things out. Over."

"Seamless?" he asked, "Over."

"I don't know," Moira said, "Each compartment has to be sealed up completely. Do you have any welding equipment? Over."

Morph fought the urge to laugh.

"No," he said, "And no mutants with heat powers either. Over."

He thought of Sunfire again and clenched his teeth.

"I'll see if someone can come over from command," she said, "For now you're just going to have to hold your position-Vincent? What is it?"

There was a muted discussion.

"Morph," Moira said, her voice high, "The MRD wavelengths are redirecting. The Sentinels are regrouping and moving to a new location. Over."

"What?" he asked, "Over."

"Someone recalled them," Moira said, "They're coming back to the Mastermold base. All of them. They should be there in under an hour. You need to hold that position. I'm calling for reinforcements for you right now. Over."

He forced down panic. He was in charge. He couldn't let his fears get the best of him.

"All of them?" Morph said, "Over."

"All except three it looks like," Moira said, "And they're heading…here. Morph, I have to go. We need to figure out a defense. Over."

"Got it," Morph said, "Good luck. Over."

"The same. Over."

He ended the transmission and then turned to his troops. They had a lot of work to do.

* * *

"The Sentinels were recalled to Mastermold," Erik said, "It seems like it really is our best bet at shutting them down."

Charles nodded. Moira had given them the transmission just before leaving to prepare the prison's own defenses. Hellions had been left behind though, and there were several mutants and human's who'd belonged to the armed forces. They hadn't requested reinforcements, so he assumed that they believed the situation was well in hand.

He'd been able to give her the information about Rahne and David and he'd heard her tears of relief even over the poor line. They were asleep in the room upstairs. Rahne had been ravenous but he'd had to counsel her to eat sparingly. She'd been dehydrated as well, but she'd been more exhausted than the other two combined. For once David had managed not to be fussy and had fallen asleep with his sister.

"She says that the people at Mastermold need help with moving several metal parts of the generators," Charles said, "They need to be sealed up perfectly. Do we have anyone who can do anything like that? Anyone who does things with heat?"

Erik paused and then smirked.

"Charles, I'm surprised at you," he said, "Yes, we do have someone who can do that. Not with heat though."

Charles smiled and shook his head.

"I knew you'd want to go down there yourself," he said.

"We need to," Erik said, "There are no troops to direct now. The ones that are protecting the safe zones need to stay in place in case there's a sneak attack. The rest need to head down to the Mastermold base. We need to shut these things down. The MRD soldiers are almost gone and the ones that remain are being taken care of. Only the Sentinels remain. If we can get rid of them then we've won."

"I know," Charles said.

He looked up at him.

"I'm going with you though," he said, "You'll just do something stupid if I don't."

"You have such little faith in me," Erik said.

Charles shook his head. He walked over and put his hand on his shoulder.

"No," he said, "I have every faith in you. But, no matter how things turn out tonight, I have the feeling that we both need to be there."

Erik nodded. He gestured over to Azazel, who walked over.

"I need you to teleport us to the Mastermold base," he said, "And then transfer the reinforcements there. Do you think you can do that?"

Azazel snorted.

"I am not spent yet," he said.

"Good," Erik said, "We're leaving Clarice in charge while we're gone. Her and Emma. Between them they should have it."

Azazel nodded. Charles looked over at Erik.

"Ready for this?" he asked.

Erik grinned.

"Let's find out."


	65. Chapter 65

Azazel's teleportation method left something to be desired. It was precise and fast and Erik supposed that was all he had the right to ask for. It also had the undesirable side effect of making him naseous. Clarice's teleportations were smooth, even if she couldn't go as far as quickly.

He pounded his chest, trying to avoid retching what food he'd been able to consume in the past few hours. In the past when Azazel had had to teleport them a long distance before a speech or battle meeting he aimed at a location some ways away. That allowed Charles and Erik to fight to keep their stomach contents in control in private. It wouldn't do to have their troops see them sick.

He'd given them the same courtesy before teleporting them into the Mastermold base. Looking around the beach Erik found it hard to believe that it was going to be the scene of future carnage. Past carnage was easy to believe; the evidence was everywhere. It was littered with the parts of several Sentinels, hands and metal plates tossed around the landscape.

However, at the moment all he could see was peace. Erik could feel the ocean breeze andhear the waves crashing on the sand. He'd brought Susanna and Lorna there for Lorna's eleventh birthday. There had been the public celebrations, but there'd been a few hours for their family to celebrate by themselves, away from the crowds. They'd had a picnic there and Lorna had come back with seashells she'd collected. Susanna had strung them into a necklace and placed them on her neck.

His heart contracted and Erik shook his head. No; the beach was a scene of carnage and destruction. All of Genosha was that night. Nothing had been spared from the destruction. Fire had scorched the ground bare and the ashes of the dead filled the air. It was a hellish place and it was going to stay like that if they didn't stop the MRD.

He straightened up and glanced over at Charles. His friend had recovered and gotten to his feet. Azazel took note of thier conditions and tilted his head towards Erik. He nodded and Azazel teleported away.

"Looks like we're on our own now," Charles said.

Erik nodded his head as the two approached the base. They were stopped by a Hellion that Erik remembered as Psylocke, her swords glowing with magenta light. When she saw who they were she lowered her swords, sliding them into the sheaths on her back. She stood at attention and saluted them. Erik and Charles saluted as well, releasing her from her attentive stance. Psylocke nodded and waved them in.

The two of them followed, walking past rows of Hellions and X-men. He could feel their eyes on them and held himself straighter. Charles did as well. This was no time for them to see their leaders showing weakness. If he couldn't even show them he was sick from teleporting then he certainly couldn't show them anything but a determined front.

Inside the base was littered with machine parts. Most of the bodies had been put to one side, and the living prisoners had been shoved into a corner. Their forces were working on getting a defense up, but they stopped when they saw Charles and Erik. They'd been trained to stand at attention when they walked by and, as Erik knew, even in the direst circumstances, old habits died hard.

They met Morph in the middle of the base. He looked up from pulling a restrained scientist into a pile with the others. Morph dropped him, ignoring the noise the man made, and walked over. He looked tired and his brow dripped with sweat. From the reports taking the base hadn't been easy. The newest complication was taking his toll on him as well.

Nonetheless he saluted and the two of them returned the gesture. Morph relaxed and gestured around him.

"We're getting the defense ready," Morph said, "They're supposed to be here in about twenty minutes. All of the Sentinels in Genosha."

He gave a wry grin.

"At least they're away from the cities," Morph said.

"Indeed," Charles said, "We have that to be grateful for."

"Everything has a silver lining," Erik said dryly, "Where's this generator?"

Morph waved his hand. He led them through a corridor and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom of the floor there was a heavily bolted door. Someone had already broken through it. Purple light spilled through the cracks in the door, flickering every few seconds. Morph put his hands on the door and looked over his shoulder at him.

"Might wanna shield your eyes," he said.

They did so and Morph opened the doors. Even though he was shielding his eyes Erik had to blink a few times. The intensity of the light was nearly overwhelming. When he'd adjusted he could see a purple light churning inside a metal cylinder, making a thick liquid bubble. Several different panels were placed around it, with thick cords leading up to the ceiling.

Metal was all around him. At any other time he'd feel comfortable. However, he wasn't. Something was off and he stifled a frown. It took him a moment to realize that was because most of the metal was made of aluminum and nickel. They weren't magnetic. He winced inwardly. It was going to take a great deal of effort to do the necessary work.

Across from him Charles' expression showed that he was thinking the same thing. They couldn't say that in front of Morph though.

"Charles and I will take care of this," Erik said, "Make sure the defenses are ready."

Morph nodded and walked out of the room. Erik put his hands on one of the panels and concentrated. He felt Charles' presence in his mind, helping him stay focused. After a few minutes the panel popped out and Erik began examining the wires. Moira had described the generator and detail, and he knew what he was looking for.

"They planned this," Erik said, "They knew I could control metal."

"They underestimated you," Charles said, "They underestimated all of us."

"Oh?" Erik asked, rearranging the copper wires, "What makes you say that?"

Charles smiled.

"If they'd taken us seriously then they wouldn't have made the Sentinels from metal," Charles said, "This was just their fail safe."

Erik smirked. Charles knelt next to him and began rerouting the electricity flow.

"Reminds me of the old days," Erik said, "And not in a good way. Remember that time in Florida when the MRD had us in that warehouse?"

"Yes," Charles said, "I was rather scared then."

"Really?" asked Erik, frowning, "You didn't show it."

"I'm good at that," Charles said.

Erik's frown deepened as he replaced the panel.

"Are you scared now?" he asked.

Tremors from the ground above them shook the room, almost making him lose his balance. Erik looked up before glancing at Charles. They both knew what the tremors meant. It looked like Morph's estimate had been off.

"I'd be a fool not to be," Charles said.

* * *

Moira moved away from her desk and clicked on her radio. The two Hellions were outside as well as a few of the other prisoners. They'd set up a trip wire running from two of the outside posts as well as a few other traps. If their luck held then it would take out two of the Sentinels. If not then it was up to the people outside to take them out manually.

In the unlikely event that they got to the main building there was a plan for that too. The electronic mutants had rigged up a shock system that should fry the Sentinel's circuits. The set-up had been laborious and she could see that they were all ready to fall down from exhaustion. She'd have to see about hiring them for the Intelligence department once everything was over, if the plan succeeded.

There'd been no word from Charles or the other Hellions once Moira had signed off and concentrated on her own position. They had their own preparations to make. The Mastermold base was the top priority. It was going to be overwhelmed soon unless someone did something about it, and then they'd lose their chance. If there was one hope of ending the situation, it was there.

Moira gripped the edge of her desk, feeling tired and nauseous. She'd been eating preserved food and drinking endless cups of coffee on no sleep in a high-stress situation. A few minutes before she'd had to get up and throw up in the side bathroom. There were worried and considerate glances thrown her way from time to time, reminding her of why she'd been leaving work several weeks early.

Still, everyone at the prison was being considerate of her. Moira wondered how many knew who she was. The ones who did know were smart enough to keep quiet, and she wagered that there weren't many. With all the commotion and fear people would be too busy to recognize the head of Intelligence and the Prime Minister's wife. It was better that way.

A crackle of static over her headphones made her look up. Tremors from outside made the ground shake, and Moira's heart beat faster. She knew what the message was going to be.

"This is Sasquatch," Sasquatch said, "We've got the Sentinels coming in fast in formation. Over."

"This is Muir," Moira said, "Copy. Over."

She gave a thumbs up to Vincent, who nodded. He swung down on one of the cords and began powering up the machine. A crash from outside made him stumble and grip the edge of the platform he was on. Moira hoped that the crash meant that the trip wire had worked.

"One down," Sasquatch said, "Thunderbird's pretty merciless with these things. Two of them got past the traps though. We're moving in. Over."

The prisoners looked at her with expectation, probably interpreting the crash the same way she had. She held up a single finger and there was some cheering. Moira kept the dials up, making sure that the lines of communication were open. It wasn't over yet. A Sentinel had been taken down, but there were still two Sentinels out there, and the threat was still very real.

She made a motion to Vincent, who got back up and continued to power up the static shocker. As he did Moira began to lose her radio signal. The machine was draining the power and her station was the biggest power sucking aspect of their operation. Moira swore to herself. She'd have to move to another machine if she wanted to stay in business.

Moira walked over to the other machine, flipping it on. It would take a while to power up with their defense building power. She shook her head and began searching for headphones. She'd just found them when the roof was torn off and a hand smashed into the middle of the room.

The room shook. Moira lost her footing and fell to the platform, clipping her head on the table. The hand moved up, tilting the platform. Moira slid down the side of the platform. She lashed out with her foot and caught it around one of the handrails, holding herself in place. She'd begun to try and pull herself up when the hand swept the roof, destroying the rest of it.

Debris rained down on the other end of the platform, sending the whole structure crashing to the ground. Moira cried out, the pain from her fall excruciating. Everything hurt and a sharp pain started in her chest. It began to spread and she tried to pull herself up. The motion sent tendrils of pain throughout her body and she collapsed, gasping.

Above her the electronic mutant's machine had powered up. She saw the Sentinel look in as a jolt of electricity was shot through its head. A halo of sparks surrounded it before smoke came out of its head. It collapsed backwards and a ragged cheer went up around the prison.

From one of the side doors Sasquatch and Thunderbird came in. They climbed through the wreckage, Sasquatch in the front and shoving the debris out of the way. Vincent came in close behind them.

"Muir!" she called.

Moira managed to raise her head at the salutation. She swallowed before answering.

"Here!" she yelled.

Vincent turned and came over, Thunderbird behind him. Heather was some distance away but hurried over.

"We got the second one," Thunderbird said, "The rest are heading towards the Mastermold base so we should be fi-God in heaven."

Moira raised her head to ask what he meant, but a wave of pain made her lower it. She gasped again, the tendrils of pain strengthening and sparking her nerve endings. Sasquatch rushed up, pushing Thunderbird and Vincent out of the way. Her face reflected the same horror on both of the men's faces before steeling and turning to Thunderbird.

"Get my medical supplies to the room off to the right," Sasquatch said, "And hurry! Do you understand?"

Thunderbird nodded and rushed off down one of the hallways. Sasquatch turned to Vincent and gestured around them.

"Pillows, blankets, and hot water," Sasquatch said, "The same place as Thunderbird."

"What-?" he began.

Sasquatch grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him slightly into the air.

"Right this damn minute!" she shouted.

Vincent gave a frantic nod. Sasquatch let him go and he rushed off. More pain made Moira cry out, clutching her stomach. Sasquatch knelt beside her, putting a hand on her forehead. When she spoke, her tone was gentle.

"It's going to be okay," Sasquatch said, "Understand?"

Moira wanted to ask what was happening but another wave of pain made her grit her teeth. Sasquatch pushed her onto her back, continuing to murmur soothing words. She was looking at her with a grim expression and Moira tried to figure out what was happening. Moira blinked as Sasquatch lifted her up, feeling pain rip through her.

"I need to move you," Sasquatch said, wincing, "We can't do this out here."

She moved and Moira's head tilted upwards. For the first time she could see her body. She gasped, feeling more pain rake through her body. Although the pain was no less intense she continued to stare, frozen. Her thighs were slick with blood. Suddenly Sasquatch's words made sense. Moira laid her head back and started crying. She was losing the baby.


	66. Chapter 66

Lorna pulled her blanket up around her chin, her face to the wall. Neena was seated a few feet away from her, standing in front of the door with Arthur. They talked in hushed whispers, discussing the troop movements throughout Genosha and the Sentinels, fires that were starting and were put out. She knew she wasn't supposed to hear it. They both thought that she was asleep.

In a way it was alright, because Lorna felt she needed to hear it. Her father was out there somewhere, facing all of that. If something happened she wanted to know as soon as it did. Lorna closed her eyes and bit her lip. She wished he was beside her, telling her another fairytale with the wrong ending. She wanted him with her so bad that it hurt.

Lorna wanted her mother as well. She wanted her there, telling her in her soothing voice that everything was going to be taken care of. She blinked back tears. If her mother was there then Lorna would be able to deny what her father had told her. She'd be able to know that her mother was alive and that she'd see her the next day, and the day after.

She swallowed. Her father hadn't lied though. He wouldn't do that to her. Her mother was gone forever. Lorna grasped the silver rose necklace, wishing that she had more of her mother to hold onto. That was all she had though, and the thought made tears trickle down her face.

Lorna hadn't cried in front of Neena or Arthur. They were her friends, but she wasn't just a little girl whose mother was gone. She was a princess. Her father had his duty, a duty that had taken him far away from her to fight the people who'd killed her mother. He'd told her to wait for him until he came back. That was her duty, and it was what she was going to do.

He'd said that he was going to come back, but her mother had said that too. She hadn't lied, she just hadn't known that things were going to go that way. Lorna grasped the edge of her blanket and clutched it in her hand, the material wrinkling under the pressure. There were no guarantees that Lorna was going to see her father again. The knowledge was staggering, but she had to face it.

Swallowing she let go of the blanket. Lorna took a deep breath and clasped her hands together before squeezing her eyes shut. Her mother and father had each given her different instructions about religion. Her father was Jewish while her mother was Protestant. They'd both given her lessons and she'd ended up with a belief that was a mixture of the two.

Her mother had taught her to say prayers with her hands folded though. It was something she'd often seen her mother do when they were in their apartment before her father found them. She knew what it was and had known that her mother was worried. The fact that she was doing something her mother had taught her made her feel a little better.

"Please," she whispered, barely hearing the words herself, "My dad. It's bad out there. Please let him be safe."

She knew her words were lacking finesse, but her mother had told her it didn't matter how she said it. The thought comforted Lorna as she buried her face further into her pillow. It would be fine as long as she meant it, and she meant it with all her soul.

"Please let him come back," Lorna whispered, "Please."

* * *

"Incoming!"

Morph ducked and rolled. The Sentinels began blasting from their palms, the red light searing the ground and filling the air with the smell of charcoal. He'd heard reports about the lasers, that they'd killed his best friend and at least one of the men who'd trained them. He set his face and darted forward, planting explosives on the Sentinel's legs.

Before the Sentinel knew what had happened he began sprinting away, making a gesture to Colossus. He got several yards before the explosives detonated. The Sentinel fell to the ground and Colossus jumped on it. There was an explosion as he smashed its chestplate and Colossus was thrown backwards, his metal skin preventing him from being harmed.

Morph gave him a thumbs-up. He looked around him. One was down, but there were far too many to go. From somewhere to the side a grenade launcher was fired, hitting a Sentinel in the head. He watched it explode and go flying with a grime satisfaction. Seeing any Sentinel explode always made him feel better, no matter what the situation.

The Mastermold base had been full of traditional weaponry. Seeing an opening Morph had been quick to exploit it. Gensoha had never had enough money to purchase such weapons or manufacture them. It had depended on the might of its mutant soldiers to make up for it. In most situations it did. It was why they'd been able to survive for so long.

The Sentinels were different from any enemy that they'd ever faced. They were big, and they were well-equipped. Getting close to them was suicidal, but it was the only way to take them down. Few mutants had the necessary abilities or power to destroy them from a distance. Dominikos had already passed out from overusing his power. That meant they had to get into the Sentinel's most destructive range.

Using the grenade launchers gave them a bit of distance. Even the explosives were good when planted at their feet, causing them to fall to the ground. It was a two-person job, but that meant that a third could operate a grenade launcher from the base. By reducing the bare minimum amount of manpower needed to take down a Sentinel they'd been able to make some headway.

Across from him he saw a two-person team that needed no modern technology. Azazel was teleporting around a Sentinel, his swords and tail flickering every which way. At its feet Emma was punching into it, her diamond skin glinting into the light and metal smashing around her. The Sentinel fell and they moved onto the next one, a well-oiled machine.

They didn't need to look far for a target. Sentinels were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, and advancing fast. Every time they took one down two took its place. He'd already seen several X-men and Hellions fall. There were gaps in their ranks, and the Sentinels had arrived only minutes ago. They weren't even at full strength because some team members were inside, destroying each Sentinel that Mastermold tried to complete so they didn't get attacked from the behind as well.

There were words that he could use to describe the situation, but Morph had never been a profane man. Colossus was though, and he was spouting off curses in Russian. Morph kept his thoughts to himself. He knew that they were lost without a paddle on shit creek and about to go over a waterfall. Privately he gave a wry chuckle. Hell, he doubted they even had a canoe at that point.

However, no matter what the situation was, they had to hold the line. If they didn't then Magnus and Charles would never finish dissembling the generator. If he failed then Magnus and Charles would fail, and the whole damn night would've been for nothing.

The last he'd heard Magnus and Charles had finished two of the panels. There was an unforeseen complication that they'd run into, although he didn't know what it was. They said they could work through it though. Morph figured that it was just the way that the day was going that that would happen. It was a little past five in the morning and over the past eleven hours everything that could go wrong had.

He resisted the urge to try and get radio contact with them. If they succeeded then he'd know. Morph gestured to Colossus and the two began to weave around the Sentinels. They weren't the brightest and some of their lasers took down other Sentinels as they tried to get to Morph and Colossus. It was a good victory, but now it had started to rain hot metal.

Reaching into his pack he took out more explosives. Gulping in air he charged another Sentinel. They had to take down as many as they could. Other soldiers were mimicking their tactics, but the base was defended by a skeleton crew. If something didn't happen soon then they'd all die.

Morph had lived a charmed life. He remembered that as he ran up to the Sentinel, planting the explosives. His parents had loved him and he'd been shielded from the MRD for almost his entire life. He'd been able to make his own choices and live care-free. The first time he'd encountered true hardship was when he'd immigrated to Genosha.

Genosha was his home though, the first place when he'd learned about his mutation and the world. Morph had found friends and laid down some roots. He was the leader of the Hellions, and he was going to protect his new homeland. And if he had to die to do it, then that was just the risk he ran. It was a risk that he was willing to take.

* * *

Heather had reverted back to her human form the minute she'd set Moira down. Claws and fur weren't conducive to a sterile operating environment. It made the gashes on her arms hurt like hell, but it was all about perspective. She wasn't the one losing the child she'd carried inside her for months. Very little seemed like a big deal when she compared it to that.

Vincent, after his initial shock, had done a pretty good job. The initiative of Genoshan teenagers in a crisis never failed to surprise her. He'd enlisted the help of some of the other prisoners and dug up a cot somewhere. She'd managed to prop Moira's head up and sterilize her own hands before taking inventory of the situation, which was grim.

Before coming to Genosha Heather had been a surgeon. She'd helped repair broken bones and perform blood transfusions. Heather had had a pretty good idea of diseases and similar maladies, but her specialty had been in repair surgery. It was why she'd been slotted as a medic for the Hellions almost as soon as she came to Genosha. They'd needed her.

However, Genosha was short of doctors. Before she knew it on her off days she'd been drafted into helping out at the hospital. She'd worked the pharmacy and, despite her initial lack of knowledge, in the diagnostic and gynecology departments. Heather had even helped perform a few x-rays, one of the most sophisticated pieces of machinery that Genosha had.

However, her knowledge was still less than she'd like it to be. She'd managed to get how far along Moira was in her pregnancy from her patient, whose body was covered in sweat and blood. Moira was going through a miscarriage, which she'd seen before. A supervising doctor had been there and Heather could barely remember how they'd saved the baby though.

She tried to go through what she knew. Practically speaking, a child was a parasite. It fed off the host, its mother, for nine months until the body was ready to eject it. The mother's body was, first and foremost, out for itself. If it was threatened and believed it could save itself by getting rid of the baby, then it would. The mother's feelings weren't taken into account.

It was currently the reason why Moira's body was trying to get rid of the baby. The threat was past, but the body didn't know that. Chemical procedures didn't recognize that she wasn't being attacked. It was still trying to save itself by getting rid of the baby prematurely. Heather knew that babies could be born seven weeks early and lived, but the current condition of Moira's body was changing things.

Something had gone very wrong internally and Heather didn't have the knowledge to fix it. A miscarriage would have carried through now; something had been damaged in the birth canal. Even Heather could see that there was no way that the child would survive the delivery. She was starting to wonder if the mother would either.

By the time Thunderbird returned she'd known what she had to do. The thought terrified her, but Heather was used to feeling like that. She'd removed shrapnel and bullets from bleeding soldiers feeling that same feeling, tried to repair the result of twisted experiments. If she didn't give it a try, then she could very well lose both mother and child.

She searched through her kit, hoping for some anesthetic. Heather almost screamed when all she found were a few shots of morphine. It wouldn't be enough for what she wanted to do. She turned back to Moira, her heart thudding in her chest. Heather wished that she didn't have to scare her with what she had to say, but she had to let her know the risks.

"Moira," Heather said, "I'm going to have to do a cesarean. The procedure's…risky right now. I've only got morphine. It won't take away most of the pain. But...if I don't do that then there is no doubt in my mind that you're going to lose the baby. Maybe even your life. I need you to understand that before I start. Even with this there are no guarantees."

Moira swallowed before nodding.

"Do it."

Heather filled the morphine syringes. She could tell Moira was scared, but she was looking at her with determination. Heather remembered seeing Doug playing with Rahne. She'd never been afraid of Doug's appearance or his initial standoffish attitude, and Moira had raised that girl.

She plunged the syringe into Moira's arm. Behind her she heard Thunderbird discussing why the attack at the Mastermold base was so important to Vincent. He was trying to convince him to attempt to reestablish communications with the rest of the electronic mutants. Although Vincent agreed, Heather didn't think they'd have much luck.

The situation sounded bleak. Heather knew that their King and Prime Minister were there, as well as the rest of her squadron, being attacked by all of the Sentinels on Genosha. If they lost then all of Genosha might as well be lost. They'd lose their best troops and their government in one fell swoop. However, if they weren't there then there wouldn't be a chance either.

Outside most of Genosha was on fire. Sentinels were lumbering towards the Mastermold base, attempting to destroy them because of a quirk in their DNA. It wasn't the island that Heather had come to with such hopes. It was a hell and the existence that came with it wasn't much better.

As she pulled the syringe out and fished for her scalpel Heather began to wonder if this was the universe's way of telling her that they'd lost. A new child, one of the few born on the island from immigrant parents, looked likely to die before it had the chance to live. From what she knew of the x-gene it would most likely be a mutant. Perhaps the current situation was fate's way of saying that this was what was better for the child, to die before it had to be born into a world where it would be hunted.

Heather looked at Moira and set her face, her hand with the scalpel steady. She didn't believe in fate. She didn't care if the universe itself was shouting at her that it would be more merciful to let the child die in its mother's womb. If one thing was going to go right that day, if she was going to save anyone after being surrounded by death and destruction, it was going to be the child and its mother. That was how it was going to be, and fate was just going to have to get over it.


	67. Chapter 67

Dust fell from the ceiling. One of the light fixtures fell and Charles and Erik jumped out of its way at the last minute. Erik returned immediately to the side of the generator, putting his hands against the last panel. Charles crouched next to him, ready to disconnect the fuel lines. Another fixture fell on the other side of the room. Despite the best efforts of the Hellions, it appeared that the base was falling apart.

Charles saw Erik grit his teeth in concentration. He could tell his friend was going through hell trying to get the last panel open. The generator had been designed to be a solid piece, nothing coming apart. The MRD had intended it to be in continuous use from the beginning of the Genoshan invasion until the last mutant had been captured or killed.

Beyond that they'd suspected that the Genoshans might try to take it apart if they found the base. It was apparent that they'd thought of Erik when they'd designed it. None of the metal was magnetic, and it was crippling Erik's powers. Metal was still metal, but if it wasn't magnetic then it was harder. He was losing strength fast and Charles could see that he was having trouble merely standing.

There was another tremor from above them. He wasn't sure if it was Dominikos or the Sentinels at that point. Either way things were getting bad up there. Charles knew that their troops were talented, but he wasn't sure how much longer Morph could hold off the Sentinels. There were too many of them and not enough of Genosha's forces to combat them.

Next to him Erik swore, pulling his hands away.

"There's something different about this one," Erik growled.

"What do you mean, different?" asked Charles.

"There's not as much metal in it as the other ones," Erik said, "It feels like I'm searching for a needle in a haystack."

He shook his head before placing his hands on the panel again. Charles racked through his memory, noting the panel's number and position on the generator. Finally he realized the problem. According to the plans this one was enforced with several plastic components in its design. They'd been able to use less metal on it and had taken advantage of that.

"There's very little metal in it, but it is there," Charles said, "I know you can do this."

Erik grunted, sweat beading on his forehead. He was giving it his all but reaching the magnetic metals inside of the pane was clearly draining him. Charles hadn't seen him have this much difficulty with his powers since they'd first met nine years prior. He remembered bringing down the gates of Genosha's capitol and he was struck with an idea.

"May I?" asked Charles, tapping his temples.

His friend nodded. Charles pressed his fingers into his temples and tried to help his friend achieve the necessary balance between rage and serenity he needed. Charles winced as he stepped into his friend's mind. Going into Erik's mind had always been like walking into a labyrinth with sharp corners blindfolded. This time it felt like the labyrinth was on fire.

There had always been some serenity in his friend that Charles could reach. Things had changed. At the moment, with the machines of his most hated adversary who'd murdered his wife surrounding them and threatening his country, it was all rage.

Charles could sympathize. However, he needed to find that scrap of serenity. If he could bring it up then he was sure that Erik could open the panel. They could still win. The room was still falling apart, letting him know how little time he had. Charles went to where normally went, the brightest corner of his memory cortex, only to find that it was almost completely dark.

Charles felt shock ripple through him. No matter how bad things had gotten Erik's mind had never been like that. He'd always been able to find some bright point of light. His friend's life had been tragic, full of hate and betrayal, but there had been love and trust there as well.

He winced, understanding hitting him like lightning. Of course his mind would be dark. The person who'd brought him out of his darkest times and stood by him for over a decade, had just been murdered. Susanna had died in pain and Erik hadn't been able to help her.

Being in a situation like that couldn't stop him from remembering darker times as well. Mixed together with the fresh wound were past tragedies, making it fester. The pain was blocking out memories that would give him solace. Charles might have reminded him why he was fighting, but the pain was still lurking in his mind and crippling him.

Charles struck out, digging as deep as he could. There were a few dull points of light, nothing like the type of memory he needed. It seemed like all but the brightest memories had been reduced. If they'd been reduced in his mind then it wouldn't matter if he brought them forward or not. They would appear duller to Erik than they were.

He knew they were what he'd have to use though. Even if they weren't good enough, they were all he had. He began to settle for a duller light when he saw something glowing brightly off to the side. It was being pulled back by the gloom, but it was untouched at the moment. Charles reached for it, grabbing it and dragging it to prominence in Erik's mind.

_The door to the bathroom opened and Susanna came in, her hair slightly damp. He'd called for new clothes for them immediately, and she was wearing a silk dressing gown. He got up and touched her face. She met his hand, grasping it. Erik noticed how calloused her hands were and held them tighter._

_ "Lorna asleep?" she asked._

_ "Safe and sound," he said._

_ She smiled, something his soul had been aching for. He reached out with his other hand and pulled her to his chest._

_ "There's something I want to show you," he said._

_ Susanna tilted her head in curiosity and Erik led her to the balcony. Below them stretched the gardens, barely lit by the inside lights from the palace. She stopped and he pointed downwards, resting his chin on the top of her head as he did so. Susanna looked down and her lips parted in surprise._

_ "You...you remembered," Susanna whispered._

_ He nodded and glanced down at the roses. He'd had every variety he could planted there._

_ "I had hoped that I would see you again," Erik said, inclining his head, "I had always wanted to give you roses."_

_ Susanna smiled again, her hand clenching his tightly._

_ "I love you," Erik said._

_ In his arms she shuddered, turning away from the garden and grasping the front of his shirt tightly. She was crying. Gently he pulled up her face to kiss away her tears, removing the traces of pain from her face. There would be no more of that. Not anymore. He could tell that there had been far too much of that in the years that he'd been gone. _

_ "I missed you," she said. _

_ "I missed you too," he said, "But everything's alright now."_

_ Susanna looked up, smiling. She wasn't crying anymore and Erik felt grateful. _

_ "I was worried," she said, "All those years I wondered if you were alright and then Lorna got her powers and…"_

_ Susanna looked away. Erik reached out and pulled her face so she was looking at him again. She swallowed. _

_ "I thought this would never happen," she said. _

_ Erik pulled her close, resting his chin on her head. _

_"And yet you waited," he said. _

_She pulled herself closer. _

_"I'll always wait," Susanna said, "And Lorna...this is more..."_

_Erik smiled and threaded one of his hands through her hair. _

_ "It's much better than anything we dreamed. It's more than I thought was possible," Erik said, "Lorna's going to be safe here. I'll never let those monsters near here. She can grow up without worrying about capture, without fear."_

_ Susanna shifted in his arms, leaning into his touch. _

_ "Thank you seems like it's not enough," she said, "What you've done for her…"_

_ Erik turned his head so he could see her eyes. They were the same eyes that Lorna had, eyes that were the same color as her hair. _

_ "It's no less than she deserves," he said. _

Charles blinked, his eyes taking in the generator room again. Next to him Erik had frozen, tears gathering in his eyes. Charles had a few in his own as well. Susanna had been a good woman who'd loved her husband and her daughter. He was torn between apologizing for what he'd done and reminding his friend that he had to take apart the panel.

The decision was made for him. Erik turned to Charles, his eyes boring into his.

"Thank you," Erik said.

Charles nodded, unsure if he deserved the thanks or a curse. Erik turned back to the panel, his hands splayed out on top of it. Veins popped on the side of his head as he pulled the panel away from the generator. His face was red and his jaw was clenched, the strain showing. With a final grunt of effort the panel moved away and the wires were exposed.

They both moved in there, chopping anything that looked remotely like the lines that Moira had told them about. When they finished Erik picked up the panel again. He laid it on top of the wires and put his hands on it again. Charles wondered if he'd have to give him another memory. Instead the metal began to seal itself up. Apparently that one memory had been enough to get the job done.

"What happens now?" asked Erik.

Charles looked up at the generator. It was still churning with purple light.

"I'm not sure," he said.

A light fixture fell from the ceiling and crashed only feet away from him. They both got to their feet, trying to get to a side of the room that didn't have anything hanging above it. As they watched the generator's churning began to dwindle, the liquid calming and the light fading. Charles held his breath, hoping against hope that it had worked.

* * *

Moira felt like her stomach was on fire. She tried not to look as Sasquatch, who outside of her shapeshifting she now realized was Heather, Doug's guardian, cut into her stomach. Despite the morphine pain was still shuddering through her and she had to fight to keep from lashing out. She gripped the sides of the cot, praying wordlessly that everything would work out.

Sweat drenched her skin and hair. The heat seemed overwhelming, even though she knew the room was cool. Heather was working furiously from where she was, her face set. She looked determined, a feeling that Moira shared. She wasn't about to lose her child because the MRD had attacked her home. Rahne and David were safe. She was going to bring her third child to safety as well.

Heather looked up, catching her eye. Moira knew what came next. She gritted her teeth and nodded. Looking pained Heather reached inside. The sensation was so foreign and painful that Moira screamed. Something inside of her twisted and she blacked out, feeling as if she was being pushed into cold water, her head held under no matter how much she struggled and fought. Even the darkness seemed disturbed and agonizing.

When Moira woke up she still felt like her stomach was on fire, but the pain was bearable now. Heather finished injecting more morphine into her arm, looking at her with a tired but triumphant look. Moira tried to push herself up, her arms feeling like they were made of water. Heather put her hands on her shoulders, lowering her back down onto the cot. Moira swallowed, her throat dry.

"Don't worry," Heather said.

She turned around and picked something up, her movements careful. When Heather turned back to her Moira saw a small bundle. She reached for it and Heather passed it into her arms. Periwinkle blue eyes looked up at her. Moira choked back another sob, rocking the baby in her arms.

"Healthy baby boy," Heather said, "Unusually healthy for the delivery stage actually. Real miracle child."

Moira barely heard her. She looked down at the small child, perfectly healthy despite everything, and began to cry.

* * *

The purple light disappeared. The tremors above them increased and Charles realized that the room was falling in on itself. He grabbed Erik's arm and the two of them ran out of the room. They'd made it up the steps when they heard a crash behind him. Charles didn't look back.

When they reached the main room it was empty, still littered with the remains of Sentinels but clear of any Genoshan troops. Only the scientists and soldiers that they'd taken prisoner were still there. Despite the lack of soldiers the tremors were still going on, shaking the ground. They glanced at each other before running outside, wondering what was going on.

They stopped in the doorway. Charles took a deep breath. The Sentinels were crashing to the ground, one after another. All around them Hellions and X-men were watching, their hands and weapons held at their side. Even as he watched Emma and Colossus reverted back to their flesh forms, still staring as thier enemies crumbled in on themselves.

Then, one by one, they started to turn to Erik and Charles. Morph began to clap and it spread like wildfire. Charles put his hand on Erik's shoulder and Erik nodded at him. There wasn't time to say anything before they were swarmed by their troops, all of them cheering.

The sound was deafening, so he doubted that anyone would be saying anything coherent for the next few minutes. There wouldn't be any need. He was proven wrong when Morph touched his earpiece. His face went blank before he shoved his way through his fellow troops. Morph waved and shouted, but Charles couldn't hear him. All he could do was shrug to show he couldn't hear.

Morph began pounding on the side of his head, obviously signaling Charles.

_What is it? _Charles asked.

_I just got a report in from the MRD prison facility, _Morph thought, _Congratulations. Your wife just had a baby boy. They're both fine._

Charles let out a coughing laugh, wiping away tears. Erik looked at him strangely and Charles shook his head, still laughing for the joy of the news. He put his hand to his temples shared it with Erik, who stared at him in shock before clapping him on the back. Charles looked up, still pushing away his tears. From the east he could see the sun rising, banishing the night.


	68. Chapter 68

"He's got little fingers," Rahne said, "Just like you David."

Moira moved her head towards her daughter, making the pillows rustle. She felt exhausted. From the way the sun was coming in she figured it was sometime in the afternoon. She'd dozed on and off since delivering the child, having difficulty keeping her eyes open for more than a few minutes, and it hadn't been from the painkillers Heather had given her. It felt like all of her bones had been cut open and drained of marrow. In combination with blood loss and the bruises from her fall she'd felt like she'd been put through a meat grinder. Even moving her head was difficult.

Unlike David the new baby was quiet, unusually so. After his initial wave of cries he'd fallen asleep, waking up to stare at her with her husband's eyes. It allowed her to get the sleep that she needed. Heather had woken her up to feed the baby a few times and to get a blood transfusion, but other than that she'd been left to sleep. She didn't even remember the trip from the prison compound to the Institute.

All she knew that when she woken up she was in a completely different room. The bed wasn't the cot that they'd thrown together for her. It was an actual bed, with a mattress, pillows, and a soft comforter. A crib a few feet from her held her new baby. IV's were hooked to her arms, filled with different solutions. She could tell that she'd had at least one more blood transfusion, and a heart monitor kept her up.

She'd turned her head and seen that chairs had been set up on either side of them. Rahne was sitting in one waiting for her, David in her arms and her eyes wide. One of her hands had been rocking the crib that held her new brother.

At first Rahne had cried, staying close to her mother. Moira couldn't begin to imagine what the last few hours had been like for her. Some of her hair and skin looked like it had been burned. She'd been through a hellish night, just like her parents.

Rahne had finished crying soon though. Her daughter had always had an amazing ability to move on, one that it pained Moira that she needed to use so much. Soon she'd begun fussing over the baby, somehow managing to carry both of them. Moira had insisted that she put the new baby in her arms though; Rahne might have been able to handle them but her hands were full. She took her new brother's hand and compared it to David's. Moira smiled and shifted the child so she could do so. Rahne frowned when she realized that David's hand was bigger than the new baby's.

"David's older Rahne," Moira explained.

Her tongue felt like it was made of iron but she had to say something to her daughter. She'd been missing during a war. It seemed like Moira would never be able to see or speak to her enough ever again after that.

"Yeah, I just thought he was smaller than he was," Rahne said.

The door opened and Charles walked in. Moira looked up. It was the first time she'd seen her husband in nearly a day. He looked exhausted and his steps were unsteady. She saw how drawn his face was and it was obvious that he hadn't changed his clothes in hours.

He was alright though, and that was what mattered. He simply smiled his familiar gentle smile at her, sitting down on the other side of the bed. Moira bit back tears and reached for him, even her wandering movements straining her muscles. He grasped her wandering hand and squeezed it tightly. She wanted to just collapse there, feeling him near to her and knowing that everything was going to be alright now.

The look in his eyes showed that he was feeling the same thing. So much had happened in the past few hours, but they'd weathered it and come out as a complete family, somehow managing to survive it all. There was so much that they could say in that moment, but she knew that silence was best. They knew what the other had been through. There was no need to talk about it. Not yet.

Across from them Rahne held up the baby's hand.

"Look," she said, "he's smaller than David."

Charles looked up and nodded, smiling.

"Yes, he is," Charles said.

He looked over at Moira.

"Have you thought of any names yet?" he asked, "His arrival was a little sudden."

She had to fight the urge to laugh. Sudden was a gross understatement. They hadn't been expecting him for another seven weeks. That would have given them plenty of time to decide on a name. Now they had been left without a clue of what to name him.

"You know," Charles said, stroking thier new son's head, "Heather told me that he's remarkably robust for someone his age. She thought he would need an incubator, that it would be a much closer thing than it was, but apparently not."

He shrugged.

"I suppose the date of conception was miscalculated, something of that sort," Charles said, "Your white blood cell count was rather low though. Thank goodness they were able to do a blood transfusion on the fly. We have some rather talented medics."

Moira frowned. She supposed Charles was trying to make sense of what had happened, but she didn't think he was right. She thought about all the milestones she'd reached in her pregnancy. They had all come on time. The date of conception was correct. She had no doubts about that whatsoever.

However, she wasn't feeling up to arguing about it. There was no need to, and she felt like she was going to fall asleep at any moment. Her child's safe delivery was a miracle, she was healthy herself, her family was safe, and beyond that things were fine.

"But," Charles said, "back to names."

She shifted the child in her arms. Moira had actually been thinking about his name for quite some time.

"I was thinking Kevin," Moira said, "Kevin Hudson Xavier."

Charles nodded, obviously thinking.

"Kevin as in Kevin Sydney I suppose," he said, scratching his chin, "And I'm supposing Hudson as in Heather Hudson. Hellion names."

"Heather? That's Doug's aunt," Rahne said.

"Right," Moira said, "She delivered your brother."

Rahne grinned, looking over at Kevin.

"She's awesome," Rahne said.

Moira nodded.

"It's a good name," Charles said, "I suppose you'll want them for godparents?"

"It's only right," Moira said, "They were helping me with Kevin before he was even born. I…I couldn't have done this if they hadn't helped me."

Rahne didn't seem to hear as David had started to move in her arms. Charles nodded though, squeezing her hand.

"I think it has everyone's approval," Charles said.

"Yep," Rahne said, her voice cheerful.

Feeling tired Moira smiled and leaned further back. David began to cry in Rahne's arms, his hands flailing outwards. Rhane looked down.

"It's okay," Rahne said, "You can cry all you want now."

Moira had no idea what Rahne was talking about, but she reached out for David, the movements hurting. With her other arm she shifted Kevin so she could hold David as well. Rahne passed him to her, her movements gentle. David stopped crying when he saw Kevin, looking up at Moira with big eyes. She could see a question that he couldn't ask and Moira couldn't help but laugh.

"He's your new brother David," she said.

* * *

"What will you do?"

Azazel looked at Raven. Stefan had fallen asleep in Azazel's lap, clutching the front of his shirt and his face streaked with tears. For her part Raven held onto Jimaine, the baby unaware of what was happening. All around them families in a similar condition were huddled, thier voices hushed. The hospital was calmer now, most of the patients stabilized and the light of a new day bringing an assurance of safety.

Azazel had teleported her to see her new nephew a few hours pervious. The visit had been fairly brief; at the time she'd still been needed at the hospital. She'd just needed to see that the report was true. Moira had been asleep, as had the baby, but Charles had assured her that everything was alright. Her new nephew was remarkably healthy. She'd been relieved to find that Rahne and David had made it to safety as well.

However, in that room she was reminded of the families that weren't as fortunate. The Szardos family had been ripped apart. Other children were crying, being comforted by volunteers or relatives. Some adults were holding a child, rocking them and looking forlorn. Some people just stared straight ahead. They were alone and Raven didn't even want to think about who it was they'd lost.

Jimaine cooed in her arms but remained asleep. Raven stroked her blonde curls. She felt sorry for the girl, perhaps even more than Stefan. Jimaine was far too young to understand where her mother and father had gone. It saddened Raven to think that the little girl was never going to know Margali or Sabu. For the rest of her life he'd only have Stefan and Azazel's stories of her parents instead of meeting them.

"I will take them in," Azazel said.

Raven blinked at him. His voice was flat, a tone that brokered no argument. He caught her expression and sighed.

"Margali and Sabu took me in," Azazel said, "I will not give children to strangers. They deserve house and family. I will give both."

She linked her arm with his. He glanced at her before his tail wrapped around her waist. Raven leaned on his shoulder and shifted Jimaine.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"There's two of them," Raven said, wondering how she could communicate her point without sounding insulting, "And Jimaine's very young."

Azazel nodded, understanding. His expression was somewhat lost though.

"I will do best," he said.

His voice became bitter.

"Besides," he said, "you know my daughters. Look how well I have done."

He jerked his head to the side. Raven followed his gaze, confused. Then she saw that he'd gestured to Emma and Clarice, who were sitting a few yards away from them. Laura was laying down near Emma, a blanket pulled up around her and a pillow beneath her head. Emma was holding Clarice as she cried, stroking her hair but saying nothing. Raven could see that she had tears in her eyes as well.

Raven swallowed.

"You've done right by them," she said.

Azazel looked over at her. Raven met his gaze.

"They're sad," she said, "We've all lost people we knew or cared about tonight. It's left so many people broken."

Raven nodded towards them.

"Anyone can see that they're not broken though," she said, "Emma's together now in a way that I've never seen before, taking care of Laura. And she and Clarice...despite what happened...they stuck it out until the end of the night."

Azazel continued to look at her, his eyes searching.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked.

She frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"This," he said, shifting Stefan.

"I'm still not sure I understand," Raven said.

Azazel sighed and revelation struck her. Was she ready for a relationship with a man who took care of two children? She'd just turned nineteen and was in the middle of college. Did she want to stay with him as he struggled to raise them? It was the equivalent of him being with a single father even if they weren't his children and, if the relationship worked out, she'd have a stake in raising them as well.

She swallowed. It was a big responsibility, and not one she'd expected when she'd begun dating Azazel. Who could've foreseen what had happened to Genosha, that Margali and Sabu would die? However, she was in too deep with Azazel to get out now. Raven loved him and had fought tooth and nail to be with him. She wasn't going to let something like this discourage her. He needed her.

So she forced her doubts away and a smile onto her face, cuddling closer to him.

"I'll do my best," she said.

* * *

"Sir?"

Erik turned around and saw Morph standing in front of him. The man was filthy, but Erik supposed that he was too. He hadn't had time to get changed. He'd just had Azazel teleport him straight to the hospital, deciding not to wait any longer. Despite his exhaustion he'd run a flight of stairs and burst in on Arthur and Neena, who'd nearly shot him. He had to admire her dedication.

She'd recognized him and pulled back her guns in time. Seconds later Lorna had kicked the blankets off her cot and run into his arms. He'd picked her up and held her, his knees buckling under the weight. He realized then that she'd never been asleep. The idea of her waiting there, hoping that her father would come back and not knowing if he would, had nearly drained him entirely.

After Azazel had teleported Raven to the Institute he'd taken him and Lorna. Neena and Arthur were the next trip. They were outside the door now. Lorna was there with him, resting on a cot that was shielded by a partition. He hoped that she'd be able to get some sleep soon.

"Something wrong with the security Captain?" asked Erik.

"No sir," Morph said, shifting from one foot to the other, "It's a private matter that I'd like to speak to you about."

Erik nodded, frowning. Morph swallowed.

"The Summers boys," he said, "We brought them because the Hellion base is falling apart. Two rooms down. We thought it'd be alright sir."

"That's perfectly alright Captain," Erik said, "The death of their father is a great loss to our armed forces, and I understand his wife was helping with communications when they passed. Commander Summers was trustworthy and…"

He sighed.

"He got the job done," he said.

Morph nodded. Considering the job that he'd had to do it was high praise.

"I've been talking to some of the other Hellions," Morph said, shifting his feet, "We understand that Kayla Howlett is dead and Laura Howlett, Logan's daughter, is going to be living with her aunt as her guardian. Is that true sir?"

"Yes," Erik said.

He was still unsure how he felt about Emma taking care of a child. He knew her psyche hadn't been the best in the past. She'd seemed so together when she'd requested it though that both he and Charles had felt it would be fine. There was a determination there that he'd never seen before.

"Well sir," Morph said, "The Summers boys don't have any aunts…or anyone else for that matter…and the Hellions would like permission to be their guardians."

His eyebrows shot up. Morph held his eye contact though.

"We're the only real people they know sir," he said, "Commander Summers used to take them to the base. We're all fond of them. We figured I could be their official guardian, but everyone helps out. You know, a community to raise a child and all that."

Erik glanced over at Morph. He could see how desperate Morph was that he agree. He could imagine that the rest of the Hellions were in a similar state. In a way he understood. They were trying to hold on to any semblance of their old lives and do what was best for the two boys. Charles wasn't with him at the moment, he deserved to rest with his family, but he knew that he'd feel that it was the best course as well.

"Of course," Erik said.

His eyes strayed over to where his daughter slept.

"We all want what's best for the children," he said.

* * *

_**A/N: **Only one more chapter to go. _


	69. Chapter 69

Alex shoved his tears back, his hands skimming the bandage that covered the cut on his forehead. He could feel something clogging his throat, almost choking him. It felt like he was dying, but Alex knew he wasn't. He'd seen what dying looked like, and this wasn't it.

Across from him Scott lay on a cot, fast asleep. His brother had cried himself to sleep several hours ago with Alex stroking his hair and trying not to cry in front of him. Now that he didn't have anyone to stay strong for it felt like he was falling apart. He kept remembering the warmth of his parents' blood seeping through his shoes, igniting the red light that still burned within him.

The door opened. He whipped his head around, seeing a young girl peering in. A black cloth veil was draped over her head, edged in small white crystals. Her sleeveless gown was black patterned with gray in the traditional Genoshan prints. Her arms held a bundle of white roses. She raised her green eyes to meet his.

For a while he just stared. She seemed so surreal, a child in black with white roses in the midst of everything. Before he could even say anything she'd closed the door and walked up to him. She stood in front of him, her eyes still looking at him. He could see curls of green hair peeking out from the veil now that she was closer, matching her eyes and the green of the rose stems.

Finally he found his voice.

"Who are you?'

His voice came out harsher than he intended. The girl continued to look at him though.

"I heard you lost your parents," she said.

Alex snarled, his fists bunching in the cloth of his cot. The girl blinked but didn't take a step back.

"I lost my mom," she said.

Her voice trembled. He relaxed his face, feeling some of the anger leech out of him. The girl shifted the roses and fingered a silver rose necklace.

"This was hers," she said, "I miss her already."

Alex swallowed, letting go of the edge of his bed.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

The girl looked back up at him.

"My…my mom's body is downstairs," she said, "Some people are getting ready to burry her. I thought she'd like flowers with her."

His eyes strayed to the roses.

"I know you're supposed to have lilies when someone dies. My mom told me that's what they're for. She told me a lot of things about plants," she said, tracing the petals, "But my mom didn't like lilies. She said they smelt too strong. So I got her white roses instead. She really liked roses."

He wondered where she'd gotten roses when most of Genosha was destroyed. She separated the bundle of roses and held out several towards him.

"For you," she said.

Alex stared at the roses, their white petals round and perfect.

"I thought you might want some," she said, "For your parents."

His tears began to flow freely from his eyes. Alex couldn't stop them, and he didn't try to. The girl wasn't offering him the flowers as a hollow gesture of comfort. It wasn't a gesture of pity either, just of shared sympathy for a common loss.

Alex felt his heart constrict and he reached out for the flowers with shaking hands. The tears were blurring his vision and he couldn't quite reach them. The girl closed the distance and handed them to him. Her hand brushed up against his and clasped it. Alex looked down at her hand and back to her.

"It hurts," she said, "It hurts real bad. But…we have to keep remembering. And…and I've got my dad."

She looked over her shoulder at Scott.

"And you've got your brother," she said, "At least there's that."

Alex nodded, grasping the roses tightly in his hands. When there was no pain he looked down. He noticed that she'd removed the thorns, the small gesture making him want to cry all over again. She squeezed his hand before stepping back.

"I have to go now," she said, "My dad'll be looking for me soon."

She turned around, her dress dragging on the floor. Alex swallowed.

"Hey," he said.

The girl turned back, her green eyes wide.

"Thanks," he said.

The girl smiled, the expression sad. Even so it made him warm, knowing that someone struggling with thier own grief had taken the time to help him. He wondered how she could still smile, what it would be like if she smiled when she was happy, if she hadn't lost someone.

Alex watched her go. For a moment he stared at the door, wondering if the surreal encounter had happened at all. However, the roses were still in his hands. They were in his hands two hours later when Morph came to tell him that he'd been granted guardianship and that they'd be leaving soon. He'd asked about the roses, but Alex didn't tell him. He didn't think he'd ever be able to tell anyone.

* * *

"The events of the past day have been shattering," Charles said, "Twenty-four hours ago a foreign force known as the Mutant Response Division or the MRD, slipped past our early warning systems and invaded our shores, causing untold devastation to our country."

He sighed, his hands gripping the side of the podium. The cameras were rolling, broadcasting the message to all of Genosha. They needed to be told that things were in hand now, that the Sentinels and MRD were gone. Charles doubted that things would ever be the same again though.

"Due to the valiant efforts of our armed forces and citizen militias we were able to repel the invasion," Charles said, "But at a heavy cost. It is estimated that our population was decimated and half of our capitol destroyed. Every inch that the MRD advanced on was paid for in blood. Several of our commanders were killed in the field alongside their soldiers, protecting our people."

Charles swallowed, thinking of Logan and all the other X-men he'd known who had died. Behind him Emma sat on the podium, Laura under the watchful eye of Clarice. Azazel sat next to her, just behind Moira. Kevin was with Rahne and David, who were two rooms over with Neena and Arthur. He had worried abut his wife coming out, since she was still weak, weaker than she should have been. However, Genosha needed to see that the Director of Intelligence was still alive. She had been on IVs until the very moment she'd stepped onto the stage.

Charles' seat was empty at the moment, but Erik sat in his, Lorna sitting quietly next to him. At first Erik hadn't wanted her to be there. She'd just returned from weaving white roses into a flower crown for her mother's body. Susanna had been cleaned up to the point where Lorna could perform the small favor for her mother. A state funeral was being prepared, as well as a private one, in a few days. He hadn't wanted her to be in front of the cameras.

However, Genosha needed to see that its government was intact and together. Erik had realized that when he reviewed who they were going to have on the podium. They needed to see their surviving cabinet members and directors, military commanders, everyone who had come through the night.

Lorna, although young, was a part of that. She was her father's heir and the country's future. They needed that future more than ever when it had almost been shattered. There were already reports that the Queen had died. Like Moira people needed confirmation of Lorna's survival. It Otherwise there would be rampant speculation as to the Princess' fate. They couldn't have that.

"Nearly six years ago we founded Genosha with an idea to give our children the security that we were denied in the countries of our birth. We came here believing that humans and mutants can coexist and live in peace," Charles said, "We all held the hope that we would be able to live our lives as we wished, without anyone telling us what we can and can't do because of what we are."

He swallowed again, fighting his own emotions. Several members of the camera crew were looking away or tilting their heads back, trying to keep their tears inside. No matter who they were, everyone had come for those reasons. He hoped his words would bring them comfort, just as he hoped that Erik could show them that there was a future for Genosha despite what had happened.

"And as long as we keep believing that," he said, "then we can rebuild. I understand that our losses were great, that we have lost family and friends, but we still survive. And as long as we do that, they will never be forgotten."

He left the podium, taking his seat next to Moira. She reached out and he gripped her hand, their fingers entertwined without an inch of space between them. Thier eyes met and he saw determination as well as tears shining in hers. It was a feeling he shared.

* * *

Inside himself Erik was a myriad of emotions. He felt them churning to the surface as he approached the podium, his footsteps ponderous. So much had happened in the past few hours. His world had once again been turned upside down and he'd lost one of the only constants in his life. Erik forced himself to take a deep breath and try to calm down before looking into the cameras.

"Brothers and sisters," he said, "today we find ourselves in the midst of the first invasion of our country's shores."

He'd drafted his speech out before he went up to the podium, not trusting himself to speak off the cuff. There were too many conflicting words inside of him.

"Our world was set on fire," Erik said, "a fire that consumed our homes, our country, and those…those we loved…"

A lump formed in his throat. Erik swallowed, trying to push it down. He couldn't. The words had been difficult to force out before when he was writing them down, but now they were impossible. How could he offer them comfort when he didn't feel that comfort himself? He remembered Susanna's body going limp in his arms, the flames burning and consuming all around him. It was all too much.

A small hand gripped his. He looked down and saw that Lorna had gotten up and come to his side. She had clasped her hand around his, tears in her green eyes. He looked back at her, his own eyes wide and surprised. He wondered how hard it had been for her to hold off doing that. She'd lost just as much as he had, if not more, and was looking to him, her father, for comfort. His daughter needed him, and he wasn't going to let her down.

Erik tilted his head up, feeling iron fill his bones again. He was going to be strong for her. He stepped around the podium and brought her to his side, his arm around her shoulders. His other hand grasped hers, keeping her close. She leaned her head into him, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

He looked up at the camera again, the words he'd prepared flying out of his head. He was always best when he was speaking without a script after all.

"But, destructive thought it may be, fire doesn't destroy everything," he said, "A fire leaves behind ashes, and from those ashes we will rise stronger than before. Like a phoenix we will burn in the sky, a beacon of freedom and determination."

Erik tilted his head up.

"We've been at war with so many for so long, and the events of last night have shown us that the war isn't over," Erik said, "But we, the few of us in this world, have fought men who have come into our homes to drag us from our lives. We have fought a government, invasion forces, and iron giants. And though the costs may be high we have won every time single time. No matter what they do to us, they cannot stamp us out."

The camera crew was staring at him, their eyes wide.

"I can assure you that there is an end to this war, and one day we will stand on our shores, knowing that we never stopped fighting for our future," he said, "The MRD is out there, and if they are watching, they will quake in their shoes, knowing that they have not broken us. They've only made us fight all the harder, because they have come here and threatened what is ours. They know that we will never give up until we stand triumphant."

From behind him he heard the scraping of a chair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Charles stand up with Moira, their hands clenched and drawing strength from each other. One by one the other members of the cabinet stood up too, their eyes looking defiantly at the camera. Erik gripped his daughter's hand tighter, daring the world to try and stop them again. He didn't care what they threw at them. They were ready.

* * *

Stryker looked at the screen with narrowed eyes, not saying a word. Next to him Killbrew and Craig were silent too. Killbrew didn't know if there was anything they could say. Craig had begun to tap his fingers on the table as soon as the transmission started, an irritating habit of his, but other than that there was no noise. Stryker leaned forward and paused the transmission, turning in his chair to give his attention back to the other two men.

"So," he said.

Killbrew raised an eyebrow.

"That's all you have to say?" he asked.

"What else is there to say?" Stryker shrugged, "We lost a battle. That's all. If we use the Sentinels again we should put them in a place offshore. Hauling all of Mastermold took most of our time and diverted a great deal of manpower."

"Agreed. Placing Mastermold onshore was a poor move," Craig said, nodding, "Even so I thought it was going to work for a while. We should eliminate the human element in the future. The Sentinels did fine on their own, but the soldiers' incompetence ruined things."

"I hear that they even had the MacTaggert slut at one point," Stryker said, "They didn't even know it."

"See what I mean?" Craig said.

Killbrew looked between the two of them.

"What are you two talking about?" he snapped, "Have you lost your minds? 'In the future'? What future? Weren't you listening to what he just said?"

Stryker rolled his eyes. Killbrew wondered if they were being deliberately obtuse. They weren't stupid, he knew that much. Each of them were college men. They were good strategists, there was no doubt about it, but they had a habit of constantly underestimating their enemies.

He knew that neither of the two men listened to a word he said on anything other than scientific matters. Sometimes, like with his condemnation of the adamantium process, they hadn't even listened to him then. They should have instead of capturing a beast for another try. It was a waste of resources.

Killbrew had examined mutants firsthand. He knew better than anyone what they were capable of. Sometimes he wondered if he knew more about what happened to someone when they were cornered and pushed more than the other men. He'd never fought in combat, but he'd been around people quite a bit. Killbrew had had to manipulate groups of people from the beginning to gain funding for his research. Stryker and Craig had worked with individuals.

They still refused to listen to his concerns though. They had condescendingly said that he didn't understand and moved on. Even now he knew he was wasting his breath, but he refused to sit by without a word while they made idiots of themselves and walked into a bear trap.

"The war has just begun," Stryker said, "And our attack wasn't a total failure. I suppose that they'll be changing their early warning systems, but we had a pretty good lay of the land from our Sentinels. We know more now."

"Oh, we do do we?" asked Killbrew, his voice acidic, "That's why we lost nearly a thousand men. Almost all of our resources were put into the Sentinels. It will take years before we can build another Mastermold system. Where are we supposed to go from here?"

"Onwards, ever onwards," Craig said.

Killbrew threw his hands into the air. Stryker shook his head.

"You're not a military man Emrys," Stryker said, "A lost battle doesn't mean that we lost the war. Besides, now you finally have a viable specimen for your adamantium process. You can start work immediately! That has to count for something."

Killbrew leaned back, lapsing into a sullen silence. It was always the damn adamantium. Stryker and Craig didn't understand. They had kept pushing, and that pushing had resulted in something he didn't want. He didn't like the mutant that they'd brought in for experimentation. There was something in his eyes that made him feel like his own life could be measured in minutes, if not seconds.

If it didn't work then he knew he was dead. Killbrew had experimented with many different mutants, some who cowered, and some who fought. This mutant wasn't a fighter. This was a destroyer, a bringer of death. There was nothing to fight because a fight implied that there would be a struggle. He could tell that this mutant was used to winning, and there was a very good reason for that.

Not that anyone would listen to his concerns, especially not when they came to the adamantium process. They were obesessed. Even as they watched Stryker turned away from him, facing Craig. He'd forgotten about him already.

"That reminds me," he said, "How is Creed fitting in with the rest of the recruits?"

"The freak's twice as vicious as any of them," Craig said, "And perhaps even more insane than Marko."

"I'd almost forgotten about our prodigal," Stryker said, "And how's he doing?"

Craig shrugged.

"Upset about the explosion breaking his arm," Craig said, "He's also irritated that he wasn't allowed to go after his stepbrother."

"All in good time," Stryker said, getting up, "For now, I think it's time for a break. Meeting adjourned."

Killbrew watched as Stryker and Craig left the room. He pushed his chair back and walked up to the television screen. It was still paused on the Genoshan government, standing up at their King's words. Killbrew stood in front of it, his hands clasped behind his back as he often did when he was posed with a problem. He spent several minutes looking from person to person. He took his time, studying every detail of their posture and faces.

A sigh of frustration passed his lips. He hadn't been imagining it. Every single one of them, from the Princess to the man who looked like the Devil, had the same look in their eyes. It was a look of determination, one that told the world that they weren't backing down. He supposed that every single Genoshan citizen had had that look in their eyes when they heard the broadcast. They were a country, nay, a world in themselves, united.

And that, more than anything, was a reason to fear them.

* * *

_**A/N: **Now it's time for one of my characteristically long post-story author notes! Hope you liked 'The World on Fire'. It's darker than 'The World Turned Upside Down', but the stakes are getting higher for all of the characters. All of the characters who died in the story also died in the comics, or are presumed dead, leaving thier families and friends in bad positions. The last story, 'The World United' should be coming out in a few weeks and takes place four years after 'The World on Fire'. The younger generation will play a much bigger role in this story. It looks like I have a thing for trilogies. _

_Susanna was a great character to write. I ended up putting a lot of thought into her, more so than I'd originally thought I would when I first introduced her character in 'The World Turned Upside Down'. Erik is a hard man to love, and I tried to imagine someone who'd be determined enough to stay with him and gain his love. Her death won't be without major repurcussions to both her husband and daughter. _

_The same goes for Christopher and Katherine Summers. I portrayed them as horrible people in 'Sins of the Father', but they were closer to their comic book counterparts in this story. Like many writers on this site, I tried to keep the Shi'iar out of the picture though. I feel that they tended to bring Alex and Scott's backstory to confusing and often ludicrous heights, especially in a franchise that has been alien-free thus far. _

_The Hellions were an actual team associated with the House of M, but they were very different than the one portrayed here. I based the team roster for Genosha's Hellions on members from 'The Exiles' comic series, which is actually one of my favorite comic series. All of the different characters are X-men from different dimensions who have to come together to repair the universe. Thier characters dot my other stories, such as TJ and Clarice in 'The X-Force'. As TJ is Nightcrawler's daughter, I felt it would be better to leave her out for this story._

_And last but not least, I have my shoutouts! I'd like to thank Knight of Wings, ShiroNeko316, tiredstudent09, noamg, Coyote Blues, and Princess-Amon-Rae for thier continued support and reviews! _


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